Building Bridges
by amber-goddess
Summary: A possible timeline if Luke had managed to save Darth Vader after the destruction of the Death Star. (Chapter 9 up - Vader is attacked by an assasin, and reverts to some old habits...)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bet you'd already guessed that though, huh?  
  
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Luke stared out of the view-screen, watching the glittering fragments drift into nothing. He had thought that space had lost the ability to surprise him. It had been his home for many years now, and in that time he had seen more than most would in a lifetime. Nevertheless, he found himself unable to tear his eyes from the image before him. He wanted to capture it --- seal it --- imprint it forever on his memory.  
  
He had just witnessed the destruction of the Death Star.  
  
Strange how peaceful the scene was. The force of the explosion had shattered the metallic orb into a billion gleaming embers. The field of devastation still retained a vaguely spherical shape, and, beyond that, the emerald-tinted moon of Endor drifted serenely against the darkness. So quiet --- so calm ---  
  
It hardly seemed possible that, only minutes before, this had been the stage for the final battle against the Empire.  
  
He could see them now - the Rebel forces flying in triumphant formations through the debris. Luke gave a small smile. They deserved to celebrate. What they had fought for for so many years had finally come to pass. The Emperor was dead, and with him, the Empire as well. For the first time as long as anyone could remember, they were free. It was something worth celebrating.  
  
Han --- Leia --- Chewy --- the Droids --- they would all be waiting for them. He didn't need to worry for them - he knew that they were safe. All his life Luke had felt unease. He had been always running, always searching. Now he experienced an odd feeling of completion, and no matter what else happed, he knew that he would always have that sense of peace. He had achieved his density. There was balance within the Force.  
  
"Luke----"  
  
The voice drifted from the back of the shuttle. The young Jedi tapped the control panel quickly - setting the ship on auto-pilot. He rose from his chair and crossed the floor to stand beside the fallen man.  
  
"It's all right," he told him, dropping to one knee, "You're safe now."  
  
The man was sprawled awkwardly over a low bench, lying on his back with one arm folded over his chest. His respirator emitted a horse, steady intake of breath, the sound painfully weak against the pressing silence.  
  
"Where ---- am ---- I?" He was forced the pause between each word, gasping for air.  
  
Luke watched him tenderly. "We're on route to Endor. We should arrive in twenty minutes or so." He placed his hand over his fathers and gripped tightly. "Hang on just a little more."  
  
The man - Darth Vader - stared up at him. The black helmet disguised any human expression that he might have worn, pitiless eye sockets looking blankly heavenward. "You --- saved --- me."  
  
Luke gave a weak smile. "Of course I did."  
  
"----Why?----"  
  
The young Jedi raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why did you save me?" he challenged quietly.  
  
Darth Vander didn't respond. His chest rose and fell with haggard breathing.  
  
"Because you're my father, and because I'm your son. That's all that matters."  
  
Behind the dark glass lenses, Luke thought he saw a quick movement, like hurried blinking. A faint glimmer of tears shone deep within void-like recesses. It was there for only a moment, disappearing so swiftly, he would later question whether he had simply imagined it.  
  
Vader gave a small sigh and sank lower into the bench. His head rolled weakly to one side. The gathering darkness was looming up to greet him, a warm sleepy feeling drifting up through his crippled body. He allowed himself to fall into its gentle caresses without resistance. After so long fighting, it felt good to simply let go.  
  
Luke watched his father fall unconscious. He didn't worry for his safety; he could sense that he was going to make it. He was strong, and they had almost reached Endor. Once there, the rebel medics would be able to help him.  
  
It would be difficult. To him, the figure before him was Anakin Skywalker -- - his father. To anyone else however, he would still be Darth Vader, the destroyer of worlds and second only to the Emperor in the control of the Empire. Luke wasn't certain how far his name alone would be able to convince people to help the injured Vader -----  
  
But that was all to come. Here --- now --- *this* was real. The past and the future were inconsequential.  
  
Luke was bringing his father home.  
  
Hand lingering on Darth's still arm, he rose to his feet and returned to his position at the helm. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: You know the drill ----  
  
Authors note: Jedi Takato pointed out my spelling mistake, so I'm gonna apologize for that. I'm a pretty poor typist and, though I try to read my stories through a couple of times after I've written them, I sometimes miss a couple of errors. Hopefully it's not too much to detract from the story, but I'll apologize in advance in case anyone finds anymore ^^  
  
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The forest was alive that night.  
  
The jubilant shrieks of Ewok's filled the pine-scented air, Rebel fighters rushing to greet each other. Their faces shone with a post-victory glow. By now the news must have spread around half the galaxy - the Imperial Empire had fallen and the Emperor was dead! The galaxy was free once again! The celebrations that evening would stretch all the way to the outer-rim ---- but nowhere was the triumph felt more than on the small moon of Endor.  
  
Leia stood slightly to one side, watching the festivities happily. Groups of Ewok's danced around bonfires, drumming the ground with whittled sticks and beating their paws on their furred chests. In between these flaming beacons, clusters of people danced along to the music provided. Leia couldn't help but laugh when she noticed Chewbacca in the midst of it all. He was at least three times larger than his Ewok dancing partner, but seemed to be enjoying himself. Every now and again he would lift his head skyward and give a cheerful bay, causing resounding squeaks of approval from the nearby tribal leaders.  
  
The young woman gave a slight jump as a pair of strong arms fastened around her waist. She didn't need to turn around though - only one person in the universe had ever touched her like that.  
  
Han leaned forward and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. "Wanna join them?" he murmured hopefully.  
  
Leia arched her eyebrows and smirked. "Funny, but you never struck me as the dancing type."  
  
"There's a lot of things that you don't know about me, princess. Though if you're not up to dancing, I can think of other ways that we can celebrate together---"  
  
His impudence was awarded with a sharp elbow in the gut. The former- smuggler winced, taking a step backwards.  
  
"Agh! I take that as a no?"  
  
"Got it in one." Leia shook her head, smiling warmly. She walked up to press her body against his, raising her head to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She noted the self-conscious blush that crept into his cheeks. Han Solo might like to act like an accomplished womanizer, but Leia knew all to well just how bashful he could be. It amused her to tease him like this.  
  
Han grinned nervously. "I'll be more careful next time." He watched her consideringly for a moment, eyes suddenly clouded with a look of thought. "How are you feeling?" He asked, gingerly touching where she had been injured earlier.  
  
She placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I told you, I'm fine. The blast only winged me." Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his tousled hair. "Stop worrying."  
  
"I always worry about you."  
  
His voice had lowered to a soft murmur of honesty. Leia nodded slowly. "I know."  
  
They watched each other silently for a moment, a look of understanding passing between them. The noise from the celebrations seemed to fade into the background and suddenly, for a brief shining second, it was as though they were the only two people on the whole of Endor --- in the whole galaxy even.  
  
It was a very special feeling.  
  
"Luke's back."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
Han continued to watch her lovingly. "Luke. I got a message from him a couple of minutes ago; he says he'll be landing soon."  
  
Leia smiled at the sound of her brother's name. "How is he?"  
  
"He sounded good to me."  
  
Leia nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "I knew he would be," she said quietly, more to herself than Han. She looked up. "Where's he docking?"  
  
"On the south side, in the Imperial camp. He doesn't want you up there though; he gave me specific instructions about that."  
  
The dark haired woman lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?"  
  
Han shrugged indifferently. "Telepathy's a little out of my depth. I'll leave all those hocus-pocus mind powers to Luke, if you don't mind."  
  
He was about to make a joke when he noticed a look of deep thought pass over Leia's features. Her head lowered slightly, meditative frown flitting across her smooth forehead.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She glanced up at him, still frowning. "I-I don't know. Just for a moment there --- I thought I felt ---" She paused, searching for the words. The feeling was still there, dark and intangible, dancing phantom-like at the edge of her consciousness. She tried to hold on to it but it remained illusive, always just beyond her reach. Finally, she sighed and shrugged. "Never mind."  
  
Han considered her carefully. Over the past couple of years he'd come to know Leia pretty well. But there were times --- when she got that look in her eyes, that distant, oddly focused look --- it was as though she were listening to something that only she could hear. Han didn't know what it was --- couldn't understand it. It would always be something that he would be unable to share with her.  
  
Actually, he'd seen Luke wear the same look often --- usually when he went into one of his Jedi all-knowing-all-seeing phases. Funny, but now that he knew the truth, it surprised him at just how alike those two were. Luke and Leia - brother and sister.  
  
It seemed so obvious with the gift of hindsight.  
  
"Hey, come on now. You know Luke! He probably just doesn't want to tear you away from the party." Han assured her brightly.  
  
Leia hesitated uncertainly. "Do you think so?" She didn't sound sure.  
  
"Of course I do. He knows how much this day means to you." He beamed warmly down at her and, placing his hand on her shoulder, began to steer her into the crowd of revelers. "No one has worked harder to see this Rebellion thing through than you. Why would you want to spend the night in a lading base waiting for Luke when you could be right here watching Chewy make an ass out of himself?"  
  
She gave a low laugh, nodding slightly. "Alright, alright. I'll stay here."  
  
Han leaned forward and softly kissed the top of her head. "Glad to hear it," he murmured.  
  
Leia felt his hand slip into hers, and together they went to stand with Lando and the Droids. Leia smiled and joked with the rest of them, immersing herself in the euphoria of victory.  
  
It was a great day for the Rebellion.  
  
---- And yet the young woman found herself unable to be rid of the strange feeling that haunted her. Luke was safe, she knew that. So why was she so worried? She should have been happy, but something kept pulling her away -- - a vague, ghostly feeling of unease.  
  
It was disturbing.  
  
She glanced heavenwards. The night sky was a star-filled void, dim lavender glow on the horizon the last remnants of dusk. High above her head, the exploded fragments of the Death Star still glittered, testimony to its recent destruction. She stared at it silently for a moment, reassuring herself that it was truly gone. There could be no doubt about it. The Death Star was no more.  
  
So why couldn't she shake this ominous feeling?  
  
Unconsciously, she shivered and huddled closer to Han.  
The shuttle began its descent into Endor's lower atmosphere. The landing zone had, only hours before hand, been in the heart of the Imperial camp. However, when the Death Star was destroyed, overrunning the ground troops had been a piece of cake. The moon was in Rebel hands now.  
  
Two Rebel fighters stood in wait at the edge of the landing zone, blasters resting against their shoulders. Luke Skywalker was a highly respected member of the Resistance. His prowess as a solder had become the stuff of legend amongst the younger recruits, and the story of how he destroyed the original Death Star had been long secured in the achieves of history.  
  
It was an honor to welcome him home on such a day.  
  
The two young men watched as the shuttle landed, giving off a hiss of steam as its feet made contact with the ground.  
  
There was a lengthy pause. The forest around then began to quieten, leaves of nearby trees rustling in the cool night-time breeze. Far off in the distance, they could hear the sound of the Ewok revelry. A glimmer of fireworks exploded against the sky in blazing gold and green. The party must be been in full swing by now.  
  
The doorway to the shuttle opened suddenly. The Rebel fighters stood stiffly to attention, hands raised in a practiced solute.  
  
After a moment, a figure emerged from the shaded doorway. A young man staggered out into the light, dark clothes torn and grimy, skin smudged with black marks. Luke Skywalker.  
  
And he was not alone.  
  
The two men recoiled in horror, expressions swiftly changing from well- rehearsed dignity to outright shock.  
  
Darth Vader was still unconscious. His helmeted head lolled heavily forward, legs dragging uselessly behind him. Luke supported his father's weight on his own, swaying slightly as the edged his way down the runway. Vader's arm was placed around Luke's neck and he leaned drunkenly against the younger man.  
  
Luke stopped, and looked up at the watching Rebels. He looked tired and out of breath. "I need some medic's down here right away," he called out to them.  
  
Neither moved, staring in terror at the caped apparition before them.  
  
Luke felt his anger rise. "That's an order!"  
  
The two men paused, and then seemed to regain their senses. Stumbling somewhat, they both began to run towards the nearby building. Luke wasn't sure what they were going for - medical help or more guards. His plan to get his father aid suddenly didn't like such a good idea. However, it was too late to turn back now.  
  
"Hold on, father." He murmured softly. "Just hold on."  
"This is highly unorthodox! I don't think that I need to remind you who that man is!"  
  
Luke ignored the man and concentrated his energy on the black figure on the stretcher. They were hurrying down a pristine white corridor towards the Infirmary. Luke could only hope that the Rebel medics knew how to use Imperial medical technology - the Infirmary and all its equipment had only been claimed by the Rebel's a matter of hours before hand.  
  
"Do you know how many of our men that man has killed?!"  
  
Luke gave a growl of frustration and shook his head, increasing his pace so that he walked alongside his father. Darth Vader was being carried on a stretcher by four Rebel medics, and it seemed that it was taking all their strength simply to lift him. Vader hadn't regained consciousness. His respirator emitted a slow, horse gasp of air, chest rising and falling regularly. Against the spotless white of the corridor, the Sith lord suddenly seemed impossibly black, helmet gleaming like polished jet.  
  
"I just can't understand what must have possessed you to do it!" The field sergeant trailed the Jedi helplessly, bristling with rage and confusion. "Why? Why bring that --- that --- *monster* here!" He grabbed Luke by the shoulder and forced him to look at him in the face. "The Commander's will not stand for this!"  
  
Luke clenched his jaw together. With deliberate calmness, he shrugged the sergeant's hand away. "The Commander's are not to hear of this," he told him coolly. "Not yet anyway. I will tell them myself, tomorrow, when the celebrations are over."  
  
"But you can't seriously-"  
  
"Don't make me pull rank on you, sergeant."  
  
The other man spluttered for a moment, then trailed into silence. The four medics continued down the corridor with the stretcher, automatic doors opening to let them through. Then the doors hissed closed, leaving Luke alone with the sergeant.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
The man watched him unhappily. "Field Sergeant De'Lahara --- sir."  
  
"The last thing I need is for this to turn into something ugly, De'Lahara. We're just going to treat him --- that's all. He's very seriously injured."  
  
De'Lahara looked up, but found that he couldn't quite meet Luke's eye. He blinked hurriedly and looked away. There was a power to Skywalker --- a kind of strength that didn't seem natural. It unnerved him.  
  
"Darth Vader," he said, attempting to regain control of the situation, "Is one of the greatest enemies of the Rebellion." He pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the Infirmary. "If we help him, we'll be aiding a blood-thirty murderer. He could turn on us at any time. And then where would we be? No one, barring yourself sir, has ever survived combat with him. We'd be signing our own death orders!"  
  
Luke shook his head. "You are wrong."  
  
The sergeant grew bold. "And I suppose the Force told you so?"  
  
"Yes, in a way."  
  
De'Lahara fidgeted, glancing quickly to the now closed doors. "He is a tyrant! This is madness."  
  
"That is not your decision to make."  
  
"Nor is it yours!"  
  
Luke raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh no?" His voice lowered to a cool, almost threatening, murmur.  
  
The man frowned and shook his head. "I-I don't understand." He looked up at the Jedi desperately. "Why?"  
  
Luke paused. "I have my reasons. That's all you need to know."  
  
"You realize that I must report this to the Commanders. They will need to know about this." De'Lahara told him shakily.  
  
The temptation to use his mind powers was suddenly overwhelming. Luke closed his eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. He didn't want to go down that road - not until it was absolutely necessary. He'd had a close call as far as the Dark Side was concerned, and he didn't want to put himself into that situation again. The enormity of his powers had only just full occurred to him ---- he didn't want to use them for wrong, no matter how good his intentions might be.  
  
Luke nodded and gave a weary sigh. "You do what you think is right."  
  
What did it matter anyway? The Rebel Leaders would have to be informed sooner or later. Darth Vader in the medi-bay wasn't something that you could just keep under wraps. He was confident that he could win the Commander's over ---- at least for the time being.  
  
And after that ----? Luke didn't like to think that far ahead. He had to keep his mind on the here and now; otherwise he would lose his focus completely. He was a Jedi now --- it was time that he started thinking like one.  
  
He watched as sergeant De'Lahara scuttled away down the corridor, most likely to inform the first officer that he could find.  
  
Luke wasted no time.  
  
Turning on his heel, he strode quickly down to the Infirmary.  
All around him was darkness. Sweet oblivion. No need to think --- no need to feel --- content to simply exist.  
  
And yet he was aware. Even unconscious, his being was in perfect interface with the Force. It surrounded him with its presence --- blinding him --- flowing through him. He was one with the Force.  
  
If he had had any presence of mind, it would have occurred to him to wonder if this was how Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt when he ----  
  
The unexpected pressure of fingers on his shoulder snapped Vader into instant consciousness. His hand reached up automatically with a suddenness that took the other by surprise. There was a satisfying scream of fear. The Sith Lord griped tighter, eyes flying open behind his mask.  
  
Where was his blasted lightsaber?  
Luke heard the cries for help before he'd even made it halfway down the corridor. He quickened his pace, breaking into a run as he rounded the corner. He burst into the Infirmary --- apparently just in the nick of time.  
  
Three of the medics were cowering against the opposite walls, edging desperately towards the panic button next to the door. They stared in horror the centre of the room, Luke quickly understanding why.  
  
Darth Vader had his hand around the neck of the fourth medic and had lifted him clean off the ground. The medic's feet kicked uselessly at thin air, his face flushed deeply scarlet with blood pressure. He looked like he was about to pass out. Vader didn't appear to be much healthier. His respirator wheezed hoarsely, rushed and unnatural, and the arm that bore the medic's weight trembled.  
  
"Father---"  
  
Darth Vader hesitated, looking over to his son. He swayed slightly. "Luke?"  
  
Luke took a step further into the room. "Father --- please."  
  
The medic gave a yelp as he was dropped roughly to the ground. The robed figure shivered, rocking uncertainly on his feet. Behind the black helmet, his eyes were struggling to maintain focus.  
  
"---Luke---?"  
  
Vader buckled, falling to his knees. Luke was instantly at his side, gripping his father's shoulders in a futile attempt to steady him. The older man sagged weakly in his arms.  
  
Luke looked quickly up at the medics. They continued to watch fearfully, but they were no longer intent on reaching the panic button. He gave a quick nod. "Its okay," he assured them "He's fine now."  
  
Darth Vader felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness. His eyelids pulled down as though by an invisible weight, warm numbness taking his senses away. He struggled briefly against the feeling.  
  
"It's alright, father. You can let go."  
  
The voice came to him as though from a great distance. His son --- Luke --- he was calling out to him from the darkness. Vader tried to reply, but found that he didn't have the breath to form the words. He fought feebly against the growing oblivion. He didn't want this ----  
  
Finally he found that he did not have a choice in the matter. He was too weak to resist.  
  
Darth Vader slipped back into unconsciousness, his son's final words ringing in his ears.  
  
"---You can let go---" 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: That lucky ol' Mr Lucas owns Star Wars, not I.  
  
Authors note: This chapter was only supposed to be a very short scene in a larger chapter - but unfortunately I'm a little pressed for time. It may seem a little rushed, but hopefully I'll smooth things out in the next chapter or so. I realize that things must be seeming a little slow plot- wise, but I want to get some establishing ground work done first before I move onto anything bigger. You'll just have to bear with me :P  
  
  
  
  
  
Luke stood in the corridor outside the medi-bay, resting his chin against a fist. A long window in the wall showed what was happening inside the Infirmary, his eyes focused intently as he watched. Two of the Rebel medics were inside, assisted in their work by a medi-droid. Luke's eyes followed their movements closely.  
  
Darth Vader lay sprawled across the examination table, still as a corpse. The sedatives they had given him seemed to have done the job very well. The sound of his respirator was reassuringly steady, the heart monitor giving soft, regular beeps. He hadn't stirred once since they had administered it. It half occurred to Luke to wonder exactly how much they had given him. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Rebel doctors to be conscientious in their work, but at the same time he was not oblivious to the fact that most of the known universe wanted his father dead.  
  
The sound of approaching steps brought Luke away from his thoughts. He turned and watched the medic approach him, data pad in hand.  
  
"Commander Skywalker?"  
  
The Jedi gave a brief nod of greeting. "How is he?"  
  
"His condition appears to be stable for the time being, sir." He paused, hesitant. "Though it would be easier to examine him is we were permitted to remove the mask ---?"  
  
Luke shook his head. "Under no circumstances. It would kill him." It was true. Without his mask, Vader would die --- in more ways than one. He noticed the quick look that fell over the young medic. Apparently, he didn't think that that was such a bad idea ----  
  
Luke decided to put an end to his line of thinking as quickly as possible. "As long as he is here and he is injured, you are under obligation to treat him the same as you would anyone else. Is that clear?"  
  
He gave a guilty start. "Of course, Commander."  
  
"Good." Luke continued to watch him for a moment, gently probing the other man's thoughts. Satisfied that he had got the point, he blinked and glanced up at the ceiling, breaking his hold. "How bad is it?"  
  
"Tell you the truth, sir; I'm surprised he survived the journey back to Endor." Again, there was a note of remorse in that statement. "His injuries were extremely severe. Many of his internal implants seem to have short-circuited, so his organs are pretty much shot to pieces. Nothing that I can't repair though --- given time. I've put him on life-support for the moment and that should keep him going for a while. I must say, it's an interesting case. I've never seen a living human with so many mechanical implants! They control his heart, his digestion, his breathing capacity ---- he's more machine than man."  
  
Luke noted a hungry glint in the medic's eye. The fear and hatred for Vader had not gone, but there was something else now. A kind of morbid curiosity. It was a look he remembered. He'd seen the same look on the faces of those who had visited the traveling freak shows on Tantooine. That's what Darth Vader was to them. A freak. A dangerous freak.  
  
Before he could open his mouth to berate to medic, his companion continued. "There were some rather ---- unusual injuries."  
  
The Jedi raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
  
The medic seemed to pause, squirming uncomfortably under Luke's scrutiny. "Well --- I-I'm not sure exactly. I've never seen anything like it. He looks like he's suffered from massive burns - possibly either electrical or some kind of radiation, I can't tell. But the weird thing is, sir --- our scans show that he's been burnt from the inside out."  
  
Luke shuddered, thinking of what his father went through to save him.  
  
The medic waited expectantly. Moments passed, and Luke didn't elaborate further. He decided to leave it. "There were other, lesser injuries. What looks like a twisted ankle --- sprained wrist --- loss of a prosthetic hand --- only trivial wounds, though they may cause him some discomfort for a couple of weeks."  
  
Luke folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "When will he regain consciousness?"  
  
The medic thought for a moment, consulting his data pad. "I erm --- I thought that it might be a good idea to keep him sedated for the time being, sir." He twitched nervously, avoiding his superiors gaze. "For security reasons."  
  
Luke felt his anger rise at the suggestion. Then his reasoning kicked in, and he realized that he couldn't really blame the medic for wanting to be cautious. Darth Vader was known for many things --- but kindly patience wasn't one of them. His father had recently regained the Light side of the Force, but Luke still didn't know what to expect when he woke up.  
  
He gave a quiet grunt of thought. "No more sedatives. His adrenaline levels are dangerously low and I don't want to risk him going into shock."  
  
The other man frowned and took a step back. "How did you know-"  
  
However, his question was destined never to be answered. The doors to the Infirmary suddenly whooshed open, a dark haired woman entering. She paused, looking around --- then her eyes fell on Luke. Her face broke into a wide grin.  
  
"Luke!" She cried, rushing into her brothers arms. She laughed and kissed him happily on the cheek. "Oh Luke --- I'm so glad that you're alright!"  
  
Luke closed his eyes and held her tightly. "Leia," he breathed, content simply to say her name. They stayed that way for a long moment, holding each other in jovial relief. After a time, they disengaged, though Leia's arms still remained around his shoulders in a light hug. She smiled up at him.  
  
"You scared me for a while there."  
  
Luke shook his head. "I was never in any real danger."  
  
Leia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "How did you work that one out?"  
  
"I'm still here aren't I?"  
  
His sister laughed. "Yes, thank goodness." She watched him in silence for a second further, then buried her head into his chest. "I'm so happy that you're safe."  
  
"Hmm --- not as much as I am." He sighed and rested his cheek against the top of her head. He could hardly believe that he was here. It all seemed slightly surreal after his experiences on the Death Star ---- smaller somehow. He stared thoughtfully into nothingness. "I wasn't sure that I'd ever see you again."  
  
"I thought you said that you weren't in any danger up there?" she reminded him, smirking slightly.  
  
"The danger was from the Emperor --- Vader meant me no threat."  
  
Leia frowned and looked up at him. "What do you mean--?"  
  
The medic - still standing close by - cleared his throat awkwardly. Luke and Leia parted, turning to look at him.  
  
"Commander Skywalker? The patient?"  
  
Luke blinked then nodded. "Can you wake him up now?"  
  
The medic winced at the suggestion. Luke sensed his rising trepidation. "I could ---- but I don't think that it would be a good idea. Maybe with a security team present ---?"  
  
"I don't need a security team. He will not harm me."  
  
"Sir, be reasonable-"  
  
Luke glanced at him sharply, looking every inch a Jedi Knight. "I know him, and he won't take kindly to waking up surrounded by a bunch of Rebel guards. As long as I'm alone with him, I'll be safe."  
  
The medic watched him uneasily. He seemed to think about it for a moment, then gave a weary shrug. "If you insist, sir. But I'm calling security at the first sign of trouble." He tapped at the communicator on his belt to emphasis his point.  
  
Luke gave a slight nod. He supposed that he couldn't ask for much more than that. For the young Jedi, the situation seemed to demand a certain amount of swiftness on his part. He half expected the door to the medi-bay to open at any minute, and a platoon of soldiers to come running out. He had to explain a few things to his father before that could happen.  
  
Leia glanced between the two men uneasily. "Luke? What's going on?" Her earlier feelings of apprehension suddenly returned - tenfold. Something cold squirmed in her gut.  
  
"Shall I administer the neural stimulant to wake Lord Vader, sir? Or would you rather that he were allowed to regain consciousness naturally?"  
  
There was a deathly silence.  
  
Leia stared blankly at her brother, not understanding. Slowly, a look of realization washed over her features. Her brown eyes widened, lips parting.  
  
"Vader?"  
  
Luke watched her desperately. "Leia --- please---"  
  
She looked at him with growing horror. Turning away suddenly, she walked to the window in the Infirmary wall. The patient lay, still and unmoving, unnaturally black against the clinical whiteness of the medi-bay.  
  
Darth Vader.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I didn't mean for you to find out like that."  
  
"Of course you didn't! You didn't mean for me to find out at all!"  
  
"That's not true-"  
  
"Isn't it? When were you going to tell me Luke, huh? When the Commanders had put you in the brig for treason? When that *thing* had gotten lose and killed someone?!"  
  
Luke frowned. "That's not going to happen."  
  
Leia stared at him incredulously. "Oh, sure."  
  
"He's changed."  
  
"What? Just like that?" The young woman snorted and continued to pace the room. "Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical."  
  
Luke sighed. This wasn't getting anywhere. He moved the discussion from the corridor to the small, unassuming room opposite the Infirmary. He didn't need to entire base knowing about his father --- not yet.  
  
"I don't understand why you are being like this."  
  
She shook her head. "What's not to understand?" she challenged, teeth gritted.  
  
Luke took a step closer to her, placing a gently hand on her shoulder. "Please --- just calm down and let me explain."  
  
Leia stared at him with darkly flashing eyes, jaw clenched tightly. For a long moment, she did nothing. Then, finally, she nodded her head. She folded her arms across her chest. She was still wearing the clothes that the Ewok's had provided, and the wooden beads around the hem jangled quietly against one another.  
  
"Alright then. Explain away."  
  
Luke paused. He utilized the gap in the argument to do a quick mental check on his father. Vader's mind was still largely inactive, and it looked like he was going to stay that way for a while yet. That was good. Luke needed time to get things straight with Leia. Maybe if he could win her over to his side, the Commander's might similarly be persuaded ----  
  
He lowered his eyes thoughtfully. "He saved me." Three little words - so simple, and yet they reflected a gesture that had meant more to Luke than anything else anyone had ever done for him.  
  
Leia seemed to be calming down. He could feel her aggression subside, quickly replaced by concern. And fear. Always fear. "What do you mean?"  
  
Luke looked around the room, gaze settling on a nearby couch. He moved to site down on it, cupping his hands in front of him. He stared into space, reliving the memories. "Vader. He saved my life. When the Emperor tried to kill me, he stopped him."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Killed him. He killed his Emperor to save me, and he almost died in the process."  
  
Leia stared at him for a moment, eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. Slowly, she drifted closer to sit beside him. "Darth Vader killed the Emperor?" She murmured, turning the words over his her mind.  
  
"Yes, he did." Luke looked over to her suddenly, clasping her hands in his. "There *was* still good in him, Leia. The Dark Side hadn't claimed him completely. Even when we were dueling I could sense his conflict --- his doubt. He didn't want to hurt me."  
  
Blue eyes met brown as they watched each other.  
  
"When the Emperor saw that his plan had failed, he used the Force to try and kill me." Luke smiled earnestly. "But my father saw what was happening. He threw the Emperor into the abyss. I almost killed him, but he made it. I brought him back on a shuttle, just before the Death Star blew up."  
  
Leia blinked uncertainly. "What are you saying?"  
  
"He's changed. He's left the Dark Side of the Force and returned to the Light." Luke gripped his sister's hands gently. "He's our father again."  
  
The woman paused, then looked away. She rose from the coach quickly, leaving Luke watching after her in confusion. She paced the room for a moment in silence, shaking her head. "No --- no, he's not *our* father. He never has been *our* father."  
  
"Leia---?"  
  
She held up a hand to silence him. "Luke, I ---- I love you, you know that? You're my brother, and I'll always care about you." She sighed and took a step backwards, eyes closed. "But that --- that *thing* lying in the Infirmary --- he'll never be my father."  
  
He stood. "It's pointless to close your mind to the truth, you must see that."  
  
"The truth?" She looked at him sadly, eyes shimmering in the murky half- light. "The truth is that my father died on Alderaan ---- murdered by the scum you're trying to save."  
  
"You don't mean-"  
  
There was a knock on the steel door. Luke paused mid-sentence and glanced around quickly. The doors opened and a medic stepped hesitantly into the room. The young Jedi recognized him instantly as the man his father had tried to strangle earlier. He could tell - there were still scarlet finger marks imprinted onto his neck. Luke had a feeling that he would wear those marks for a long time yet.  
  
"Commander Skywalker, Darth Vader is regaining consciousness."  
  
Luke released a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. He'd been so wrapped up with Leia, he hadn't even noticed the shift in the Force.  
  
He looked over to Leia. "I have to go. He needs me."  
  
His sister didn't reply.  
  
Luke didn't try to push her. It was a lot to get used to in a short space of time. Yoda had once taught him the value of patience - it was a virtue that he was willing to exercise.  
  
He took a soft step forward and kissed her forehead gently. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he pulled away.  
  
Leia watched him dully as he strode quickly out of the room, medic falling into step behind him. The doors hissed shut, leaving Leia in the darkness --- alone.  
  
"So am I." 


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: Mara - yes, Vader will eventually get around to explaining what happened between him and Padme. It might take a while, but I do plan to incorporate it at some point ^^ That's for all the reviews you guys. It nice to know that I'm not the only one who loves the original trilogy. *hugs Vader*  
  
  
  
The Imperial Palace of Naboo was a colossal structure, seemingly infinite in size and complexity. Its guilded halls and corridors ran warren-like through the building - a beautiful labyrinth of glass and marble. For a stranger, it would have been all too easy to lose their way in its intricate maze.  
  
Anakin, however, was not a stranger. Quite to the contrary, he knew the palace well. He strode quickly down a passageway, leaving only the faintest whisper of his cloak trailing across the stone-work floor. Tall windows stretched to the cleaning, looking out onto the midnight gardens outside. A milky moon hung low on the horizon and the stars blazed across the heavens. Anakin knew what that meant. He was late.  
  
The noise of the party grew steadily louder. He reached a pair of bronze doors and, swinging them open, stepped into the ballroom. The walled space inside was enormous. The domed ceiling arched high above his head, the shining floor obscured by the bodies of countless guests. He didn't even try to guess how many people had turned up. It appeared to be in the thousands.  
  
The young Jedi craned his neck, blue eyes quickly scanning the scene. The gathered were all people of extremely high rank and importance - and not just on Naboo either. There were kings, queens, senators, politicians, nobility --- all honored guests of Her Majesty, brought together to celebrate the anniversary of the victory over the Trade Federation.  
  
But there was only one face that Anakin was interested in seeing.  
  
His gaze came to rest on the distant figure of a woman. Padme Amidala stood, wine glass in hand, talking to another young lady. She was dressed in swathes of pastel colored glossimar, rich brown hair tied back in an elaborate bun. Her companion must have said something amusing because she suddenly laughed. For Anakin, standing on the other side of the room, the rest of the noise seemed to fade away into the background. The only sound that reached his ears was that of her voice - low and silvery, softly lilting.  
  
She sounded like an angel.  
  
She *was* an angel.  
  
His angel.  
  
Anakin drifted dream-like through the crowds, lightsaber swinging against his thigh. He approached her quietly, not speaking until he was stood directly behind her. At this close range, he could even smell her perfume. It was a scent that he knew well.  
  
"Padme?"  
  
The woman stirred at the sound of her name and turned. The smile that had previously lit up her features faded somewhat, replaced by a look of confusion.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.  
  
Anakin gave a weary sigh, eyes lingering on her bare shoulder. The urge to run his mouth along her exposed skin was suddenly overpowering and it took a great amount of willpower to subdue these feelings. He wasn't certain how the other guests would take to his emotional display ---  
  
"Listen, I'm sorry I'm a little late. Obi-Wan insisted that I spend some time working on my meditation, and then my speeder wouldn't start--"  
  
"Do I know you?" It wasn't said unkindly, more out of puzzlement than malice.  
  
Anakin paused, not understanding, then smiled wryly. "Very funny. Can I get you a drink?" He moved to take her glass from her but was surprised when she swiftly drew her hand away.  
  
"I'm sorry; sir," she told him, taking a step backwards "But I really don't know you."  
  
He frowned irritably at her words. He might have been a little late, but he didn't think that he deserved that kind of treatment. He reached out to take her glass once again.  
  
"Hey, I said that I was sorr-"  
  
Whatever he was about to say was suddenly halted. A clammy tremor ran over his skin, icy cold and creeping. He stared down at his hand in growing horror. His blue eyes widened.  
  
Instead of a hand of flesh and blood, there was a black glove. And --- somehow he knew --- underneath the glove, his hand was gone.  
  
He stared up at the woman before him, shock evident on his features. His heart was lodged somewhere in his throat and a cold knife of fear stabbed in his gut. He was on the brink of a revelation --- and he sensed that he wasn't ready for the truth ---  
  
Padme returned his look for a brief moment, then turned back to her companion, ignoring Anakin's fearful stare. She stared to laugh, picking up her conversation where she left off.  
  
Anakin froze. A ghost of a memory danced at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him with a truth that he couldn't --- wouldn't --- invoke.  
  
A sudden movement caught his eye.  
  
He looked up, breath dying in his chest. He stood before a wide mirror of polished silver. All around him he could see the gathered party guests in all their lavish costumes --- he could even see Padme reflected in its gleaming depths. But where Anakin should have been, there was only a pillar of darkness.  
  
"That's not me," he whispered, voice catching uncertainly. "That can't be me--"  
  
He reached up a hand to touch his face, watching as the apparition in the mirror moved to do the same. The only difference was that where his fingers brushed against his warm cheek, the figure in the mirror touched only a cold mask ----  
  
  
  
  
  
Darth Vader awoke with a start; eyes flying wide. The hoarse gasp of his respirator grated loudly in his ear. He attempted to lift himself from the bed, suddenly surprised to find that he couldn't feel his legs. Dazed and confused, he began to struggle.  
  
There was the sound of hurried footsteps. Luke Sywalker moved quickly to stand next to his father. "Are you alright?"  
  
Vader heard the softly spoken question and paused, looking up. He stared at the newcomer in silence for a moment, not understanding. Everything was such a blur --- then, slowly, he began to remember.  
  
"---Luke---?"  
  
The young Jedi smiled and nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
Darth hesitated, glancing around him in a mixture of suspicion and trepidation. His breathing began to calm down somewhat, regulating into slow, evan intakes.  
  
"---Where am I?"  
  
"You're in the Infirmary --- in the Imperial base on Endor. The Rebels took it over earlier today. I figured that they would have better equipment here than on the Alliance medi-ships." Luke watched him for a moment longer, hands resting on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"  
  
The Sith Lord blinked, considering the question, and turned to look at his hand --- or rather the charred stump where his hand used to be. The exposed wires jutted from the wound like bleeding veins.  
  
He gave a throaty grunt. "I've been better."  
  
Luke shook his head. "It could have been worse" he told him truthfully.  
  
Vader was about to argue to the contrary, but decided against it. The memory of his son writhing in agony at the hands of the Emperor flashed across his mind in full, horrifying detail. It was a memory he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.  
  
--- Oh yes, it could have been worse.  
  
He coughed weakly. "I suppose so."  
  
A silence fell over them for a moment as they both lapsed into thought. The only noise in the room was the discreet beeping of the medi-driod and Vader's own rhythmic breathing.  
  
"Where you injured?"  
  
Luke glanced up at the sound of his father's voice. "No. Well, maybe a little---" he rubbed his aching wrist, grimacing slightly. "You're a pretty tough competitor, you know."  
  
Darth Vader was slightly amused at the comment, though he didn't show it. "I meant from the Emperor."  
  
The Jedi hesitated, then shrugged, looking away. "It'll hurt tomorrow, but I'll get through it. I think that he was simply playing with me more than anything else. You were the one that took the brunt of the attack."  
  
Vader seemed less than satisfied with the answer but was too weak to push that matter further. He could feel an unfamiliar fatigue creeping up on him, warm and welcoming. He struggled against the sensation. Whether commanding a Star Destroyer or lightsaber dueling, he was always in control. To him, sleep meant giving up that control. He found the experience --- unsettling. Not to mention the dreams that had been plaguing him of late ---  
  
"You were foolish to try and resist the Emperor. He could have killed you."  
  
Luke smiled softly. "I knew that you wouldn't let him do that. I knew that you would save me."  
  
"I almost didn't."  
  
His son watched him carefully. "As long as there was chance of brining you back to the good side, that was something that I had to risk."  
  
The older man stared blankly ahead, struggling to comprehend what he meant. The seconds slowly trickled by, steady beep of a heart monitor filling in the background.  
  
"It was a gamble that few would have taken, son."  
  
"That's because they don't know you like I do."  
  
Vader couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet. He was feeling drowsy and it made it difficult to think. The numb nothingness below his neck was beginning to worry him ---  
  
"Luke?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
The Sith stared dully at the spotless white ceiling. "Is there any particular reason why I can't feel my legs?"  
  
Luke looked bewildered for a moment, then recalled what the medic had told him previously. "Oh, that'll just be the affects of the sedative wearing off. It's nothing to worry about." He gave a low chuckle. "Don't worry, they're still there. You'll be up and walking before you know it."  
  
Darth Vader seemed less than comforted. "I am pleased that my current predicament provides you with amusement, my son." He gave a growl of frustration and made a futile attempt to raise his knees. "May I ask why I was sedated?" His leg didn't even twitch. He mentally gave up any hope of being able to move within the next hour or two.  
  
"You had to be treated quickly. Besides, you were unconscious by yourself for most of the time."  
  
Vader continued to focus his attention on the ceiling. His enhanced vision had spotted a minute crack in one of the tiles. "Being blasted by dark Force lightning is not something that one simply walks away from." He gave his son a sidelong glance. "Well, except perhaps in your case."  
  
Luke stared down at him, eyelids half lowered as he watched him tenderly. "That was more down to you than anything I did," he murmured.  
  
"Do not underestimate your own strength. A lesser man would have died under from the onslaught. Your sensitivity to the Force served you well."  
  
There was a slight pause --- a hesitation.  
  
"Luke, I must know."  
  
The Jedi tilted his head questioningly. The dark figure on the bed stared up at him, mask blank and expressionless, unable to convey the thousand emotions that he was feeling. His chest rose and fell, breathing steady.  
  
"What stopped you from killing me? I would have offered you no resistance."  
  
Luke's eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. He slowly dropped to one knee so that his face was on level with that of the Sith Lord. "Don't you know?"  
  
Vader paused, then shook his head weakly. "No. I do not."  
  
"You're my father."  
  
"That didn't stop you from trying to butcher me with a lightsaber. My question is, what caused you to stop."  
  
The younger Skywalker opened his mouth to say something --- then halted. A slight frown of thought washed over his tanned brow. The minutes dragged by, but somehow the Infirmary seemed to have gained a kind of timeless quality --- as though separate from the rest of the universe. Luke allowed his thoughts to evolve on their own. He took himself back to the moment in the throne room where he had stood over his father, lightsaber raised.  
  
---Why had he stopped?---  
  
He looked over to where Darth Vader lay on the medi-bed. Even lying helpless as he was, he was still a awe inspiring figure. Tall and dark - impossibly black - as though cut from pure shadow. The medic's had removed his cape and gloves before they started their scans. One hand lay, exposed and unnaturally white, across his chest. And the other ---?  
  
Luke stared down at the other arm. It had been carefully rested at his side while he slept, the black lining of the suit ending strangely short at a charred stump where a hand used to be. Wires spilled from the scorched wound, circuits severed by a burning blade.  
  
"Your hand."  
  
Behind his mask, Vader frowned sleepily. He twisted his head further to look at what his son meant. He gave a slight grunt of indifference. "What of it?"  
  
Luke didn't say anything. He lowered his head, staring down at his own hand. He flexed his gloved fingers, knowing that underneath the grafted skin; it too was simply metal and wiring ---  
  
He glanced up at his father, the beginnings of understanding crossing his features.  
  
"Master Yoda once showed me something, and I don't think that I ever really understood what it meant until now. We were training one day --- and he took me to a cave ---" Luke frowned at the memory, now speaking more to himself that anyone else. "I could sense the Dark Side. It was everywhere. I knew that it was dangerous, but I --- I had to see for myself. I had to know the truth." There was another pause of thought. "I went in alone --- I could feel that Dark Side closing in on me. And then -- - then you were there."  
  
Vader was surprised by this, but chose to remain silent, allowing his son to continue.  
  
"You stepped out of the shadows and drew your lightsaber. I was frightened --- and angry. We fought and --- I-I cut your head off. I killed you. Your head rolled away and the mask fell away -------- and then I saw that it wasn't you --- it was me. I had been fighting against myself the whole time."  
  
Darth Vader's breathing remained unchanged, the blank mask conveying nothing of his inner thoughts. "I do not understand."  
  
Luke remained motionless for a moment, wondering how to explain. Then, suddenly, he lifted his arm, holding his gloved hand palm up. "Look." He placed his hand beside Vader's crippled arm. "We're exactly the same."  
  
"I don't know what-"  
  
"But don't you understand? When we were fighting in the throne room --- I felt anger -- hate --- I felt the Dark Side, just as you did. I lashed out with my negative feelings --- wanting to hurt you. But when I saw lying wounded --- wounded in the same place as me --- it made me realize that you and I are exactly the same. It wasn't a matter of me being good and you being evil. We both succumbed to the same temptation. We were both in the same situation. That's why I couldn't kill you --- we were both as lost as each other."  
  
The Sith Lord stared up at his son, finally understanding what the boy was trying to tell him. A sudden wave of emotion came over him. It was strange and unfamiliar - alien to a heart that had been long out of use ---  
  
He was proud of his son.  
  
Luke leaned forward across the bed, resting his gloved hand over Vader's own. His blue eyes shone as he gazed at his father. "That's what Yoda was trying to show me. Before I went in, he told me that all that was in the cave was what I took with me. I understand now. I was so afraid of becoming you that I didn't see the obvious --- that I already *was* you."  
  
"Luke--"  
  
The blonde haired Jedi stared at him expectantly. "Yes father?"  
  
Vader paused helplessly, searching for the words inside his head. Finally, he turned to face the ceiling, eyes trained on the near-invisible crack in the tiles.  
  
"Obi-Wan would have been pleased with you."  
  
Luke smiled. He knew what Darth Vader had been trying to say. He gripped his father's fingers between his own, squeezing them gently.  
  
"I know father."  
  
  
  
  
  
The medic watched the scene from the window in the Infirmary wall. He tapped distractedly at the side of his data-pad, forehead creased in a slight frown. He was thinking.  
  
"Doctor Chopin?"  
  
The medic turned to look at the man standing nearby. He nodded briefly, then returned to the window. Commander Skywalker seemed to be in deep conversation with the figure in black, hands inter-joined. Chopin scowled darkly.  
  
"What are your thoughts on this, Sismon?"  
  
The younger medic paused, then took a step forward to stand beside Doctor Chopin. There was a moment of considering silence as they watched the two men in the medi-bay.  
  
"I would question why we're treating Darth Vader in the first place, sir."  
  
Chopin gave a low grunt of agreement. "Indeed. As would I."  
  
There was an uncomfortable pause. Sismon fidgeted uncomfortably, amber eyes still fixed on Luke Skywalker. "Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Sismon hesitated. "Why would Commander Skywalker call him father?"  
  
The older man arched his graying eyebrows, lips pursed. "That is not our place to question. I daresay all will be explained shortly-"  
  
He was about to continue when the doors at the end of the corridor opened with a gentle hiss. A number of people strode quickly down the hallway. Flanked by uniformed rebel guards, Admiral Ackbar, Mon Mothma and General Calirissian made their way down to the Infirmary. The two medics saluted quickly in the presence of their superiors. They were effectively ignored.  
  
"--Listen, I know there's some mistake. Luke would never bring that man here."  
  
Mon Mothma glided down the corridor, white robes flowing behind her. "Perhaps, General Calirissian. However, I would prefer to confirm the matter with my own eyes before I return to the celebrations."  
  
Lando stared after her helplessly, trailing to a halt by the medi-bay doors. He frowned thoughtfully, then turned to the two medics, as though just noticing them. "Hey."  
  
Doctor Chopin stood to attention. "Yes, sir?"  
  
The general took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He sighed wearily. "Listen, I'm teird and I want to get back to the party, you get what I'm saying? Now, there's been some pretty wild rumors spreading through the base. Rumors involving Commander Skywalker." He paused, eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't be able to shed some light on that, would you?"  
  
Chopin stared ahead, chin held high. "If you are referring to the fact that Darth Vader is currently being treated in the Infirmary, sir, then the answer is in the affirmative."  
  
Lando was visibly taken back. His dark eyes flew wide, mouth hanging open.  
  
For the first time in his life, the ex-pirate was at a loss for words. 


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: Mara - I visted theforce.net for the first time today. I'm pretty new to the SW fandom, and I'd never been before. Waaay cool site! I don't think that my fic is quite ready to go up there yet though. I'll polish it up when its finished and then see if they accept it ;-)  
  
I apologies if some of the characters seems little OC. I don't know anything about Mothma or Arckbar. The only stuff I know is from watching the movies. (Though I made my first step into the expanded universe today ---- I've ordered my first ever SW novel!) Thanks for the comments everybody.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The room had previously been used by the Imperial Commanders who ran the camp on Endor. Luke could tell - it still stank of Trillarian cigars. The hastily dropped data-pads littering the floor showed battle plans drawn up for the fleet of Star Destroyers, now obsolete, and the walls and ceiling were colored in the cheerless gray that was uniform of Imperial buildings.  
  
The Imperials were gone, however. All either dead or safely incarcerated in the makeshift prison. That made the scene no less daunting though. Luke Skywalker would have gladly faced the whole of the Emperor's war cabinet rather than the gathering before him.  
  
The leaders of the combined rebel forces sat behind the crescent moon shaped table, hands cupped neatly before them. The young Jedi himself stood in the center of the room. His blue eyes were fixed determinedly ahead, chin held high. Leia Organa, sitting alongside the other high ranking Rebels, momentarily mused at the change in her brother. There was nothing of the naive young farm-boy he used to be. His face was leaner, harder, and carried about it an aura of unspoken authority.  
  
He was a man.  
  
More than that, he was a Jedi.  
  
Mon Mothma, sitting in the central position on the table, was the first to speak. "Commander Skywalker, do you know why you have been brought here?"  
  
Luke didn't blink, didn't move a muscle. "No."  
  
"Then you deny that you have done anything wrong?"  
  
"I deny nothing."  
  
The older woman arched an eyebrow at his boldly spoken words, but didn't comment. She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently. "Then you admit to aiding a war criminal?"  
  
"I helped a wounded old man get medical aid, nothing more." His voice was low and softly spoken, but the power behind it was unmistakable.  
  
Sitting beside Mothma, Lando Calirissian stared at him in disbelief. The hero of the Battle of Endor, he now wore the pins of his rank with pride upon his shirt. "Luke --- you can't be serious. You're talking about Darth Vader here." He shook his head gravely. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how that can be justified."  
  
"Do you think that I should have left him to die?"  
  
Lando watched him in silence. He didn't have to say what he thought that Luke should have done.  
  
Mon Mothma glanced between the two men, then fixed her gaze on the Jedi standing before her. Her head tilted slightly. "I don't understand what could have possessed you. Why did you do it? That creature is second only to the Emperor in the control of the Empire, and every bit as twisted as his master."  
  
Luke looked at her sadly. "You are wrong."  
  
"Oh?" Mothma was not a stern woman, but as the undisputed leader of the Alliance, she commanded certain respect. Luke knew that he was treading on dangerous ground with his defiance. Nevertheless, there was no way around it. If he wanted to save his father, it was imperative that he convince Mothma to help him. His task would not be easy, but if Yoda had taught him one lesson before he died, it was that impossible was nothing but a frame of mind.  
  
For Vader's sake, he had to try.  
  
"Darth Vader is nothing like the Emperor. The Emperor was wholly consumed by the Dark Side --- there was nothing but hatred in his soul." There was a slight pause as the young man glanced at Leia. "But Vader was not beyond redemption. There was still good inside him --- his master had not driven it from him fully."  
  
Leia stared back at him for a moment, then looked hurriedly away, lips pursed.  
  
Luke frowned slightly, the voice of Admiral Ackbar pulling him from dwelling on his sister. The amphibian blinked his large amber eyes benignly. "No one can for one moment doubt your commitment to the Rebellion, Commander Skywalker. But you understand the reasons for our concerns." He gave a heavy, wet-sounding sigh. "The Alliance simply cannot afford to take any risks."  
  
"There is no risk involved, Admiral, I assure you," Luke told him softly. It was not, perhaps, the whole truth. There was a great deal of risk involved. Darth Vader may have turned from the Dark Side, but that in itself held no real guarantees. Luke knew that his father would never again try to harm him, but would that benevolence extent to the Rebels?  
  
Somehow, he doubted it.  
  
The leather-skinned Mon Calamari turned to Mothma. If he had processed eyebrows, they might well have been raised questioningly. "The word of Skywalker is all that I need. I trust in his judgment."  
  
Mon Mothma continued to watch the Jedi before her. "The fate of the Rebel Alliance rests in the balance. We have won a key battle at Endor, but I do not for one moment presume to have fully defeated the Imperials. You seem convinced of some kind of miraculous change within Lord Vader. I am less so. In truth, I find it very difficult to believe."  
  
"You doubt my story?" Luke pulled himself a little straighter.  
  
"So far Commander, you have asked me to accept Vader's presence without question. You have offered me no argument, no explanation --- nothing to convince me to allow him to stay."  
  
"He is helpless and wounded. It is our duty to aid him."  
  
She rested a forefinger against her chin in a gesture of consideration. "We are an alliance of war, not charity workers, and he is our sworn enemy. I am sorry, but I remain unmoved."  
  
Mon Mothma was by no means an unkindly woman. By turn, she was generous, loving, wise --- all qualities of a much beloved leader. But as far as the Vader issue was concerned, Luke could sense that he was fighting a losing battle. Even had he not been Force sensitive, her resolution would have been obvious. Glancing around at the gathered Rebel Commanders, he sensed similar sentiments emanating from their hardened faces. Admiral Ackbar was the only possible exception. Whatever private doubts he may have harbored, the Mon Claramari chief trusted Luke wholeheartedly.  
  
Lando Calirissian seemed less convinced. His own treatment at the hands of the Sith Lord meant that he didn't look favorably on the suggestion that Vader might find asylum with the Rebel forces. He was torn between his friendship with Luke and his own hatred for Darth Vader. It was not a matter that would be resolved quickly.  
  
And Leia?  
  
Strangely, Luke was having problems reading her emotions. Her mind remained curiously barricaded, her expression un-readable. The young man wished that he had had a chance to talk to her more before he had been whisked away to this meeting. The Force only knew what she was thinking.  
  
"Then you are refusing Vader aid?" Luke challenged quietly.  
  
Mon Mothma sat back in her chair, face expressionless. "Unless you can provide a reason for me to change my mind, I do not see how it can be avoided."  
  
The Jedi hesitated. Reaching out with his mind, he could sense Darth Vader's weak presence down in the Infirmary. He wished that he was there with him. The overwhelming urge to protect his father was strong, and the thought of him lying on a medi-bed --- alone, helpless, and surrounded by those who would see him dead ---  
  
His argument was going nowhere and he had to hurry it along fast. Every moment that he spent away from Vader's side was a moment of mortal danger for the Sith. His thoughts quickly sought a way out of this situation --- but to no avail. There was only one possible way that he could see to save his father. Unfortunately, it was a huge gamble in itself.  
  
But Darth Vader needed help, and Luke alone was not in a position to provide it. He needed the aid of his fellow Rebels. He would have to lay his destiny in their hands and pray that they would be able to look past their own prejudices.  
  
---Trust in the Force, and it shall always guide you ---  
  
The young man drew a deep breath and stared ahead with focused blue eyes.  
  
"He's my father."  
  
The silence that met this statement was comparable to the void-like deadness of space. Nobody spoke, nobody blinked, and at the end of the table, Princess Leia Organa closed her eyes in unspoken grief.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Mon Mothma whispered, aghast. Her stately countenance displayed her total shock, one hand resting against her throat. She slowly shook her head. "Darth Vader---?"  
  
"My father --- yes."  
  
The lady sank further back into her chair, as though she suddenly lacked the strength to sit independently. "Impossible," she murmured.  
  
Luke sighed. "It is the truth. I am Lord Vader's son."  
  
With those words, Luke knew that his fate was sealed. There was no turning back now. His mouth had spoken what his heart had known ever since the encounter at Cloud City. He - Luke Skywalker, Rebel Commander and the last of the Jedi - was the son of the dark lord, Vader.  
  
"Luke ---?" Lando stared at his friend, somewhere disbelief and trepidation. "Luke --- you're his son? Darth Vader's son?"  
  
This was going to be a long night. Luke nodded patiently.  
  
Mon Mothma, still reeling from the confession, glanced at the people gathered around her. "This certainly complicates matters." She frowned broodingly for a moment, then looked up once again to the blonde haired human standing before her. "Though it does explain your insistence in having him treated. Please --- explain."  
  
And he did explain. From the events at Cloud City to his temptation in the throne room, and how Vader had rescued him from the Emperor's power. Luke omitted nothing, save for the true nature of his relationship with Leia. Something stopped him from speaking about this point --- somehow, he sensed that it would be a bad idea.  
  
Finally, there was nothing left to say. He finished his recount of his journey back to Endor, waiting expectantly for some reply. The Rebel leaders sat in considering silence, each lost in their own private thoughts. The heavy seconds dragged by. For Luke, standing in wait for their judgment, these moments seemed like a small eternity.  
  
Finally, it was Mothma that broke the quiet. Her unwavering gaze remained fixed on him, slim eyebrows pulled together in the ghost of a frown. She studied him intently.  
  
"Your tale begs the question why you did not inform us of your parentage earlier?"  
  
He gave a diminutive nod. It was a fair question he supposed.  
  
"At first I was frightened and confused. I didn't want to accept that fact that he was my father. Would you? And then --- later --- when I began to understand what it all meant---" he paused, searching fruitlessly for the words to describe what he had gone through. "---I don't know. I guess it was just too personal to share."  
  
Mothma considered him silence for a moment longer. Then, finally, she gave a small sad smile. "I can appreciate that. It is a very personal matter."  
  
Luke was grateful for her understanding, but there was still a larger issue. "Mi'lady?"  
  
"Yes, Commander."  
  
"Will Vader be permitted to stay?"  
  
The woman's expression became one of neutral diplomacy. "You are certain that he has renounced his dark nature?"  
  
"I am certain of it," he assured her. A small light of hope burned bright in his soul.  
  
She considered this for a short time. "I will want him under strict armed guard. Under no circumstances is he to be alone at any time, is that clear?"  
  
His blue eyes gleamed expectantly. "Yes."  
  
"I understand that he has lost his Jedi weapon?"  
  
"His lightsaber is lost, yes."  
  
This seemed to comfort Mothma a little. "I will hear nothing of him using his Force capabilities. If he does, he will be shot on sight. You are responsible for him, Commander Sky walker. If anything happens-"  
  
"It won't," Luke interjected firmly.  
  
"-*If* anything happens, I will make no compromises. He will be executed. Believe me; I would lose no sleep over ordering his death warrant, Commander." It was the truth, and they both knew it. "And do not think of this as a permanent arrangement. When he has regained sufficient health, he will be tried as a war criminal."  
  
That caused Luke a moment's hesitation. Still, he pushed his fears aside. That was all in the future. He was only concerned about the here and now - and getting his father medical help was the most important thing.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Mon Mothma gave a brief inclination of her head in acknowledgement. "I will order the posting of guard's immediately. I suggest that you go to your father's side."  
  
Luke needed no second invitation. Giving a quick, low bow of respect, he turned on his heel and began to walk out of the room. As he did so, he caught Leia's eye. For a brief moment a look of understanding was exchanged between the siblings. Without speaking a word, they knew each others thoughts ---  
  
Then Luke passed, and the moment was lost. The automatic doors hissed shut. The Jedi was gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
Darth Vader watched dully as his son entered the Infirmary. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now, and wasn't certain how long Luke had been gone for. All he was aware of was waking up and suddenly finding himself alone. Not fully alone, of course. Luke maintained a constant presence within his mind, a glittering disturbance in the Force. He was reminded of the nightlight that his mother had used to leave out for him when he was a boy.  
  
The thought amused him somewhat. His son had left him a mental nightlight. How touching.  
  
Blinking wearily behind the mask, Vader waited until he stood at his beside before speaking. "Tell me, how did the Rebel's take it?"  
  
Luke dropped to one knee so that he was on level with his father. He nodded. "Very well, given the circumstances. I persuaded them to let you stay."  
  
The Sith remained unimpressed. "You are foolish to trust them. They will murder me as I lie helpless and throw you in the brig for treason."  
  
Luke gave a soft smile. "What makes you think that?"  
  
"It is what I would do, were the situation reversed."  
  
The young man sighed and shook his head, not certain whether to take the comment at face value or not. Despite the family connection, Vader remained enigmatic --- mysterious. It was possible, he supposed, that his father may have made a joke. Lord Vader with a sense of humor? If possible, it was --- surreal, to say the least.  
  
"Then it's just as well for us that Mothma is a more understanding leader than you are."  
  
"She is an idealistic fool. Always was."  
  
Luke stared into the pitiless black mask, trying to fathom any human kindness behind them. In this instance, he found nothing. "Maybe so, but she's the one that spared your life back there. You might do well to show her a little gratitude."  
  
There was a short silence. Vader's rhythmic breathing, deep and steady, filled the space between them.  
  
"Somehow, I doubt she agreed to help me from the kindness of her heart."  
  
The thought of the war crimes trial loomed large in Luke's mind. He fought to suppress it, burying it deep within a dark place in his mind that Vader could not reach. Oh yes, Mothma had her own motives, but so long as they kept his father alive - at least for the time being - then Luke was willing to accept them as part of the deal.  
  
He looked down at the wounded man. "We'll deal with that if and when it comes up. Right now all you've got to concentrate on is getting better."  
  
Darth Vader gave a throaty grunt of indifference and did not reply. He stared blankly at the ceiling, chest rising and falling at consistent intervals. It was a long moment before he spoke again.  
  
"You have sacrificed much to save me, son."  
  
Luke wondered if he was referring to telling the other Rebel Commanders about his parentage. He did not ask however, simply continued to watch his father in silence.  
  
Vader paused. "I am not ungrateful."  
  
It was as close to thanks as he could bring himself to say.  
  
Luke gave one shoulder a slight shrug. "No problem."  
  
The silence around them deepened, but it was not wholly unwelcome. Later, they would need to talk. Questions that had remained unanswered for years would be forced into light, old memories - good and bad - made to resurface. But that would all come later. Just for now, they were content to simply remain quiet. After the recent turmoil, the Force was stilled.  
  
It was a good feeling.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She stood on the balcony and looked out at the night sky.  
  
Balcony was perhaps not quite a fitting description. Imperial architecture did not allow for such frivolous attachments. Rather, it was an out- jutting of concrete where officers could step out and watch the landing of shuttle craft.  
  
There were no shuttle craft here now however, only the occasional bird winging past. Leia stared out over the forest view, brown eyes distant and without focus. Fireworks blazed on the star-lit horizon, reminding her that this was supposed to be a day of celebration.  
  
Funny, but suddenly she didn't feel much like celebrating.  
  
Han would be out there somewhere, probably blinding drunk by now. She didn't blame him. He had given up at lot for the Rebellion --- for her --- and he deserved this chance to let lose a little. They probably wouldn't get much chance to do so later on. The Emperor might be dead, but the war had not completely disappeared. The fight was not finished, but at least there was an end in sight.  
  
But Leia had a fight of a different kind to face, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it.  
  
Deep down, somehow, she had always known that Luke was her brother. It was a feeling that she could not explain to herself, let alone anyone else. But when Luke had told her --- told her that she was his sister --- it was like all the pieces of the jigsaw had suddenly fitted together. There was a connection between them that she could never understand, but it was there nonetheless.  
  
More than that, she loved him. With all her heart she lived him.  
  
When he had left her to confront Vader, it was as though he had taken a part of her away with him. She hadn't been complete until she had seen him safely back on Endor. And when she knew that he was safe --- held him in her arms once more --- she had felt happiness like nothing else in the world.  
  
And then within moments that happiness had dissolved into confusion. Now she was standing alone under the night sky, trying to figure out what she was feeling.  
  
Luke was Darth Vader's son. That meant that she was Darth Vader's daughter. The thought was repulsive, and she shivered despite the warmth of the evening.  
  
But that could never be. Her father had died in the destruction of Anderaan, and no masked imposter was ever going to take his place. Luke may be willing to forgive and forget, but that was something that Leia doubted she would ever be able to do. Nothing could ever make up for the billions of innocent lives that Vader and his Empire had stolen. Even if Luke was right, and the Sith had somehow undergone a miraculous change of character, he would never find redemption in her eyes. He was a murderer, cold and cruel. He had tortured her, he had tortured Han, and in one fowl swoop he had taken everything that Leia had grown up with and loved.  
  
If fate had had any sense of justice, he should have been the first one to die when the Death Star blew up earlier that day.  
  
"Penny for them?"  
  
She glanced around suddenly, startled. It was, however, only Lando.  
  
The dark haired man stood in the open doorway. His short cape fluttered in the breeze, arms folded over his chest. He gave an apologetic smile. "It's a saying from my home planet. 'Penny for your thoughts'. It was asking you what you were thinking about."  
  
Leia gave a slight sigh and shook her head. "Jabba the Hutt wouldn't have enough money to get all my thoughts at the moment."  
  
Lando walked over to stand beside her. "I may not have much money, but I'm a damn good listener." He leaned back against the balcony rail. There was a hesitant pause as he looked away, frowning thoughtfully. "You knew about Luke being Vader's son didn't you?"  
  
His words were not accusing or reproachful, merely softly questioning. Leia found herself nodding truthfully. "He told me before he went to the Death Star."  
  
The General didn't say anything. Squinting his dark eyes against the sudden glare of a firework, he looked out over the landscape. The building rose from the centre of a clearing, and, were it light, the view would probably stretch for miles around.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Leia glanced up at the question, surprised. "Yes of course."  
  
Lando paused uncomfortably. "Han told me --- about what happened to Alderaan. I'm sorry Leia."  
  
"Don't be." The Princess blinked quickly and looked away. "It happened a long time ago. I've said my prayers for them."  
  
The ex-pirate nodded slowly. "Still, having Darth Vader hanging around the place must bring up a few old ghosts."  
  
Ghosts. That was all that was left of her home world.  
  
"It's nothing that I can't handle."  
  
A low bird flew overhead, shrieking. Lando watched it pass away into the forest, melting into shadow. "I know. But if you need anything at all, we're all here for you. I just wanted you to know that."  
  
Leia looked up at her friend sadly. "Thank you Lando. I'll remember that."  
  
Another burst of fireworks bloomed brightly against the black horizon. The Ewok celebrations continued in innocent joviality, no one knowing or caring about what was happening within the camp. Standing on a balcony, two figures stood in silence, lost in thought. A milky white moon rose overhead, framed by the still-glittering fragments of the exploded Death Star.  
  
It was quite beautifully really.  
  
  
  
  
  
The darkness was absolute. There was no escaping it. The inky black void surrounded him, warm and softly stinging. Its hard nailed tendrils caressed his mind, soothing him in a welcome oblivion, void-like nothingness yawning up to greet him.  
  
Vader was at home in the darkness. He knew it, he processed it, he controlled it. He was a creature of the night. He was a Sith warrior.  
  
There was no fear in shadows for him.  
  
And yet --- and yet ---  
  
It was there --- at the edge of his consciousness. Blacker than the surrounding shade, it left a trail of creeping coldness as it danced closer. Despite himself, Vader felt the urge to hide. This thing was more powerful that he ---- he was a fool to think that he could have defeated it.  
  
"---You cannot escape me ---"  
  
The soft hiss invaded his brain. No matter where he turned, he could not be rid of its whispered words. Wherever he went, it was with him.  
  
"---Look at you. Weak. Pathetic. Just like the boy. You cannot flee so easily ---"  
  
The feeling grew in strength. Cold darkness wrapped around his heart and mind, gripping him an icy choke. He didn't struggle. What was the point? He was already lost.  
  
"---You will die, Vader. And your children with you ---"  
  
The words were spoken, the promise sealed. The thing retreated, leaving Darth Vader broken and breathless, trembling on the floor. He sank to his hands and knees, head so heavy that he could not life it.  
  
Ruined, he just let himself die.  
  
  
  
  
  
His eyes fluttered open behind the mask, respirator taking in a hoarse gasp of air. The cool white of the ceiling greeted his blurred vision and, for a moment, he was at a loss to explain where he was. He glanced to his side and saw Luke asleep, head resting on elbows folded on Vader's bed. He was in the Infirmary --- in the base on Endor.  
  
---- a dream ---- it was just a dream ----  
  
Sighing softly in relief, he allowed his body to relax, tense muscles letting go slowly. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins and he was sweating uncomfortably inside his heavy suit. The knot of fear in his stomach refused to dissipate, making him feel oddly sick.  
  
His fear was irrational, he knew that. Just another dream - a random fluctuation of his brain when he was asleep, nothing more. He couldn't even remember what it had been about ---  
  
The cold presence in his mind died away. He struggled to identify it before it died completely. It was so familiar --- so infuriatingly familiar. But when he tried to think about it more clearly, the presence was gone, leaving Vader alone.  
  
Glancing down at Luke, he decided to let his son rest. He would not trouble him with something so trivial as a bad dream. And besides, Luke needed his risk. He had been injured far more than he would have liked to admit with his earlier battle, and he would need a great deal of rest in the coming days.  
  
Shifting more comfortably on the medi-bed, Darth Vader cupped his hands on his chest and counted the minutes as they passed. He would not sleep again that night. The lurking threat that the nightmare held was still bothering him.  
  
He regretted having lost his lightsaber. 


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: Just a (relatively) short chapter this time. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing - it always makes my day ^^  
  
  
  
  
  
Han found her sitting alone in the make-shift cafeteria. Due to the early hour, the place was deserted. The only sounds were the ever-present hum of the air conditioner and the unobtrusive beeping of the serving droid as it went about its work. Like all of the rooms in the ex-Imperial compound, the room was cool and military grey, cheerless in its minimalism.  
  
Leia herself sat in a far corner. Her rations - although open before her - were untouched, her face marred by a frown of deep thought ---  
  
--- So deep in thought in fact that she didn't notice Han moving to stand behind her. The ex-smuggler cleared him throat. She turned around swiftly, eyes wide and startled.  
  
"Han. Its you." She seemed to relax, heaving a sigh of relief. "You scared me."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "I've been standing here for almost ten minutes." Taking a step towards her, he slipped into the empty chair to her right. "You not giving me the cold shoulder now are you, princess?"  
  
The dark haired woman stared intently at her glass of water. "Don't be so ridiculous," she muttered.  
  
Han was silent for a long moment, his fingers tapping distractedly at the table top. "Leia --- I know."  
  
There was a pause. "Know what?"  
  
"About Luke saving Vader."  
  
She closed her eyes. "Who told you?"  
  
"Lando. Not that it matters - it's going to be all over the base by lunchtime."  
  
Leia looked up sharply, scowling. "Everyone involved has been ordered into silence."  
  
He leaned back in his chair and shot her a dubious glance. "Darth Vader lying in the medi-bay isn't something that you can just keep under wraps. It's going to come out --- and sooner rather than later."  
  
"I know, I know." She sighed once more and looked up at him sorrowfully. His jaw was tense, his features hardened. She didn't take it as a good sign. "Are you mad at me --- for not telling you last night?"  
  
The man frowned, surprised by the question. "Mad at you? Of course not." His expression softened at the anxious look on her face. Smiling sadly, he took her hand in his. "I'm worried, that's all. How are you doing?"  
  
The warm hand resting on hers did little to lift her sprits, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. She squeezed his fingers between her own. "Oh, I'm fine I guess. Tired maybe - I didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
"Yeah. I guess I can see why." Han shook his head. "I just don't understand ---- why would he do it?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Luke. Why would he bring that *thing* here? I'm telling you, that kids gonna have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
Leia ran a hand through her long hair. The sudden urge to simply close her eyes and go to sleep was overwhelming - to sleep and forget. But every time she shut her eyelids, she saw *him*. Blacker than any nightmare, darker than any evil she had ever known. Darth Vader. Her father.  
  
She shuddered at the mere thought.  
  
"I'm sure Luke has his reasons," she murmured softly.  
  
Han scowled. "Is this one of those wako Jedi stunts he pulls? Like, 'save your worst enemy and get a free pass to the Force' kinda thing?"  
  
Despite herself, the young woman laughed. "No, that's not it."  
  
"Well what then?" He leaned across the table, reaching out his fingers to brush against her warm cheek. "Leia, I know that you know more than you're saying. Don't you trust me?"  
  
She looked at him forlornly. "Oh Han, of course I trust you. That's not what this is about at all."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"I---I can't tell you." She pulled away from his touch, lips pressed together in a single line of worry. "I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to accept that."  
  
The tanned man studied her down-turned face closely for a moment. Of course he was desperate to know why Luke had saved the Sith Lord --- who wouldn't be? But at the same time he could see how much Leia was hurting. She was his first priority, above everything else. If she didn't want to tell him ---- for whatever reasons ---- then he was just going to have to accept that.  
  
He gave a small half smile and backed away. "Its alright. I understand."  
  
"Its not that I don't want to tell you," she whispered softly, "But I----I don't know how. I'm ---- afraid."  
  
"Afraid?" Han suddenly straightened, eyes darkening. "Is somebody threatening to hurt you? Because if they are---"  
  
Leia looked up hurriedly and gave a low laugh. "It's not like that at all. And even if it was, I can fight my own battles, that you very much Mr Solo." The laugh faded away quickly, her features becoming serious. She stared at him solemnly, hands clasped in front of her. "But this thing with Luke --- it changes everything. Not only about him but about me. And the problem is I don't know if I'm ready for that change. I don't know if I'll ever be ready." She let out a slow exhale of breath. "I just wish that this whole thing had never happened."  
  
He was silent for a moment as she finished, intent gaze clouded with thought. When he spoke, it was slow and considering, every word carefully meditated over in his mind.  
  
"Whatever it is, Leia, I'll still be here for you --- whenever you need me. You know that, right?"  
  
She shook her head despondently. "Don't say that."  
  
"Why not? It's the truth. I love you; nothing is ever going to change that."  
  
"Han, please, just drop it!"  
  
The ex-smuggler looked up in surprise as the woman rose hurriedly, her chair scraping on the floor with the shrill clatter of metal on metal. Without so much as a second glance she walked swiftly from the room, automatic doors closed behind her with a hiss of air. Then there was silence.  
  
Han swallowed, eyes still fixed on the stop where she had last been. His brain was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. He considered rushing after her, but he quickly realized that there would be no point. The mood she was in, nothing he could say was going to make the blindest bit of difference.  
  
Confused and frustrated, he kicked the table ruefully.  
  
The serving droid looked over from his post behind the counter and gave a tinny beep. "Would you like some breakfast, sir?"  
  
Han snarled darkly, but didn't reply.  
  
  
  
  
  
The first thing Luke Skywalker saw when he awoke that morning was the masked face of his father staring down at him.  
  
He blinked sleepily, eyelids heavy with weariness. Every muscle ached. He didn't know whether it was from his awkward sleeping position or if he was simply suffering the aftereffects of the previous nights battle. Most likely a combination of both.  
  
"Father," he greeted softly, smiling.  
  
Darth Vader was sitting up on the medical bed with his legs drawn up. The emotionless black helmet tilted slightly as he considered his son thoughtfully. "Good morning, Luke."  
  
"How long have you been watching me?"  
  
The Sith Lord mused over the quietly spoken words for a moment or two. "About four hours," he admitted finally.  
  
Luke raised a teasing eyebrow. "I can't be all that interesting when I'm unconscious, can I?"  
  
Vader didn't answer immediately. How could he? He knew that he would never find the words to explain how he had felt as he watched his son sleep for the first time --- how he had stared mesmerized at every little dream- induced flutter of the eyelids --- every little twitch of his hand ---  
  
The emotions he had felt that night were overpowering to a heart long resigned to emptiness. Love, pride, fear, devotion --- he had experienced them all. He had feared that the intensity of his emotions would awaken his Force sensitive son. But Luke had slept on, and the Sith continued watching, knowing for the first time what it meant to be a father.  
  
But Vader was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. His explanation died in his throat, the words remaining infuriatingly beyond his reach. Instead, he merely gave a grunt and a shrug.  
  
"There was little else to do."  
  
He inwardly cursed himself for his ineptness.  
  
Luke flashed his father a sleepy grin and yawned. "I'll talk to the medics about installing you a holo-vid, how's that?"  
  
The pitiless black mask remained blank, obviously not appreciating the attempt at humor.  
  
The young Jedi raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, relax --- I'm only joking."  
  
Darth Vader was silent for a moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned forward, bringing his face almost on level with his sons. "The last person who made a joke in front of me," he murmured coolly, voice little more than a throaty growl, "Was Captain Ja'Kal during a planning session last week. I killed him."  
  
The boy stared up into the shaded eyes. His jaw was clenched firm, expression impossible to read. Every trace of the sleepy humor he had worn a moment previously was gone. Now there was only grim resolution.  
  
"Why bring it up now?"  
  
Darth Vader remained there a moment longer, then pulled back, releasing his son from his gripping stare. Why was he bringing it up now?  
  
"My son, I want you under no illusions. I may have renounced the Emperor as my master, but a part of my heart may always belong to the Dark Side. I --- I would not wish you to imagine me as some kind of hero reborn. I am not a very good man. I fear that is something that will never change."  
  
Luke frowned thoughtfully. "But I sense the Light in you, father."  
  
"I do not deny that. But open your eyes to the darkness within me too." He paused, then looked away. "I have lived too long in the shadows to ever amend my ways. I am - and will remain - Darth Vader of the Sith."  
  
The Jedi considered his words silently for a moment, blue eyes lowered. "Not to me," he murmured quietly, "To me, you will always be my father, Anakin."  
  
Vader gave a hard laugh. "That is a title that would mean very little to the others."  
  
"Perhaps. But still --- it means something to me."  
  
Darth Vader glanced up, hollow breath catching in his chest. His son stared up at him, soft smile playing on the corners of his mouth. The boy reached out to lay his hand on Vader's own, gently squeezing at the gloved fingers.  
  
"It means everything to me, father."  
  
The older man paused, looking forgetfully down at his son's touch. Slowly, he moved his arm so that the hand fell away.  
  
"We shall see, Luke." His breathing echoed hollowly as glanced away. "We shall see."  
  
  
  
  
  
The forest was silent.  
  
Leia appreciated the quiet. It was a calming influence to her own chaotic mind. Sitting on an upturned tree log, she closed her eyes and let the stillness surround her. It helped her to better order her thoughts.  
  
She shouldn't have run out on Han, she knew that. He had only been trying to help her. But she couldn't hare bared sitting there a moment longer --- listening to him tell how her much he loved her ---- knowing all the time that if he only knew the truth ----  
  
She hadn't lied earlier. She was afraid to tell him. How could she possibly sit down and explain to the man that she loved that she was the daughter of Darth Vader? Han might care for her now, but would he feel the same knowing that her father was the man who tortured him to within an inch of his life and then traded him to Jabba the Hutt?  
  
Somehow, she doubted it.  
  
But at the same time she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide it from him forever. Han had been right --- despite the strict instructions to keep Vader's presence on Endor a secret, she would be sincerely surprised if the news wasn't all over the camp by lunchtime. The revelation that Luke was the Sith Lord's son surely wouldn't take much longer. And once Han heard -- --  
  
Well, he wasn't stupid. He knew that Luke was her brother. It wouldn't take him long to put two and two together.  
  
She knew that she would have to tell him. It was inevitable. But that didn't make it any less a daunting experience. How could she possibly tell that man that she loved that she was the spawn of Vader? And what would it mean for them once the secret was revealed? Would he still be able to love her --- knowing the truth ---?  
  
Running a hand through her long chestnut hair, the young woman rose wearily from the log. She couldn't just bury her head in the sand and hope that everything would be alright - this was something that she was going to have to face up too.  
  
But Leia had never been one to shy away when things got tough.  
  
She straightened her shirt and raised her chin. Her jaw was firm and resolute. Despite the worn Alliance uniform she was wearing --- Leia Organa looked every inch a princess.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she turned and picked her way through the foliage ---- heading towards the base where she knew Han would be waiting. 


	7. Chapter 7

Authors note: Once again, for the interests of school work, I've had to cut this chapter down from how long I meant for it to be. Reading it, the plot to this chapter might seem unnesisary and inconsequential, but its supposed to act as a set-up for the next chapter (which should be coming soon ----)  
  
Thanks for the reviews, guys. To answer questions:  
  
Morgan D - yup, Han is going to have a little talk with Luke. Probably in the next chapter. I like the little power trio that Luke, Han and Leia had in the movies, and I'll be trying to keep them together in this story.  
  
Cyber Hawk - lol, I like that idea! As soon as ol' Vader's up and running, I'll have him ask about his ship ^^  
  
MK - wait and see ----  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Han stood, hands on hips, and watched the young mechanics as they worked at fixing a broken energy conduit. The Imperial base on Endor - now in Rebel hands - had been badly damaged during the takeover. The previous night's ecstatic revelry had given way to more tedious, but no less pressing, matters. He himself was helping to oversee the repairs that would be needed to get the base back into working condition. It was giving him a headache. Either that or he was still hung-over. Whatever the reason for the dull pain in his skull, he was in a particularly foul mood --- much to the distress of the mechanics under his supervision.  
  
"Bolan, you idiot! Red wires fuse with the computer interface, blue wires fuse with the neutral charge." He scowled down at the young Rebel. "Get it right!"  
  
Standing slightly apart from their little group, Chewbacca looked up from his data-pad and gave a warbled moan.  
  
"Ah, shut up Chewie. You want the job done right don't ya?"  
  
The Wookie growled in the back of his throat and turned his attention away, leaving his friend staring ruefully after him. Ordinarily, Han would have appreciated his expressed concern. Not today. His head was too full of other matters to worry about being nice to Chewie --- probably not wise, as the shaggy creature was nursing a hang-over of his own and was not in a particularly peaceable mood either. Not that he was afraid of Chewie - they had been friends for too long to worry about the possibility of severed limbs. He would make it up to him --- later --- after he'd let himself calm down a bit. After he'd spoken with ---  
  
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. If Leia wanted to act all secretive, that was fine by him, but he wasn't about to go chasing after her because of it.  
  
No doubt she would rather talk to Luke about it anyway.  
  
Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of resentment at that thought. Completely irrational, of course. Luke was Leia's brother - Han knew that he was foolish to be jealous, Leia might love Luke but it was in a completely different way to how she loved him. Her feelings to Luke were ones of chaste friendship. Her feelings to him were ----- well, they were different. But there was that bond --- that special bond that they had --- that bond that Han could never be apart of. It hurt him, sometimes, to know that his lover could share some things with her brother that she could not being herself to with him. The whole business over breakfast was just one example.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his tussled hair, his mind tired and stressed. The knowledge that Vader was lying in the medical bay did nothing to improve his mood. What had Luke been thinking? And what was it that was so important that Leia couldn't bring herself to tell him? He felt like he was being shut out all over again. It hurt more than he cared to admit.  
  
"Han?"  
  
The sound of an achingly familiar voice drew him from his thoughts. He glanced around, expression hardening to disguise the confused emotions he was experiencing. Damn her! He had been prepared to blank her completely, but looking at her now - her eyes wide and worried, her lips slightly parted - he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it.  
  
"What's the matter, princess?" he asked wearily, turning to scowl at the mechanics.  
  
Leia's slim eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. "I need to talk to you Han."  
  
He gave a diminutive nod. "I'm listening."  
  
She glanced around the crowded corridor, a strand of dark hair falling across her forehead. "Not here. Somewhere private."  
  
"In case you hadn't noticed, your highness, we're a little busy here at the moment."  
  
She frowned, momentarily hurt by his irate tone. He had been so gentle with her at breakfast --- so loving --- and now he had slipped back into his familiar mask of sarcasm and cynicism. It was her own fault, she knew. She shouldn't have run out on him. Now he was upset and keeping his distance. She didn't want that.  
  
"When then?" she pressed, taking a step towards him. "Lunch?"  
  
He paused to look up at her. One eyebrow arched at her offer. "You think you could get through a meal without getting all melodramatic and running off?"  
  
The young woman sighed and nodded, slightly annoyed. Here she was, about to bare her soul and tell him her darkest secrets, and all he could do was shoot oh-so-unfunny little snipes. Git.  
  
Han scratched a persistent itch on his shoulder. "Alright then. I'll meet you in the cafeteria when I'm finished here --- about noon."  
  
Leia, again, heisting expectantly. When it became apparent that that was all he had to say on the matter, she gave a brief nod before turning to walk away. She could feel her lover's intense stare following her down the corridor even as she stepped through the automatic doors. A tight knot of fear twisted in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what she was going to have to do. Within the next couple of hours, Han was going to find out the truth --- the truth about her father.  
  
That single thought terrified her beyond anything she had ever known.  
  
  
  
Vader was sat up on the hard bed, watching with dull interest as the medi- droid proceeded to attach a new hand onto his arm. The process was slow and painstaking - one which he had been through several times before. Nevertheless, it never failed to invoke his attention. The human hand was one of the most complex things to recreate mechanically and everything had to be calculated meticulously, not even the slightest fault could be allowed or else it would not work at all. There was no pain in the act. The charred stump at the end of his arm was already mostly machine, and what little flesh remained was deadened beyond feeling. He wondered if Luke's had hurt when his prosthetic hand was attached. For a moment he considered asking him --- but something held him back. The question would have brought up too many memories, not only for his son, but for himself too. He decided that it would keep for a later date.  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
He glanced across the room to where Luke stood. The boy hadn't left his side since returning from his meeting with the Rebel Leader's the previous night - a fact that both pleased and irritated his injured father.  
  
"For the tenth time, son: it does not hurt," he growled, voice rasping through his breathing apparatus. "Kindly let me endure this is in a little dignity rather than being clucked over by an over-anxious child."  
  
To his intense annoyance, the younger Skywalker merely smiled at his comment.  
  
The medi-droid gave a low beep and moved slightly away, metallic head tilting to one side. "Your hand is finished, sir. Would you care to try it out?"  
  
The Sith Lord gave his gloved fingers an exterminatory flex, pleased to watch them respond to his commands. His hand moved with ease as naturally as though it had been his own flesh and bone. That was good. He knew only too well how incompetent these Rebel medics were --- he was glad that it had been an Imperial droid that had performed the actual procedure itself.  
  
"Is the performance to your satisfaction, sir?"  
  
Darth Vader paused, then allowed himself a throaty grunt of indifference. He noticed Luke watching him closely. "It is --- tolerable."  
  
The medi-droid gave a quick beeping in acknowledgement and then began to clear away the tools and wires that he had been working with. Vader continued to stare down at his new hand. He had felt oddly incomplete without his limb and was more glad than he would have admitted to have it back. Long fingers stretched and clenched, reacquainting himself with the feeling.  
  
A shadow passed over him and he knew that Luke was close by. He fought the urge to look up.  
  
"I know how you feel," his son murmured quietly. "Its kind of strange at first, isn't it?"  
  
The masked head was lowered in a nod. "Yes. Strange, though not wholly disagreeable," he mused thoughtfully.  
  
The young Jedi hesitated, then moved to sit down on the bed beside him. "I guess we're even now."  
  
Vader looked up, curious. "Even?"  
  
"You know, on the whole hand-severing thing." Luke gave a weak grin before glancing down at his own gloved hand. "You did it to me, I did it to you. We're even."  
  
Darth Vader arched an eyebrow - a wasted gesture, as he knew fine well that it was hidden behind his mask. "I was not aware that I was supposed to be keeping scores," he commented dryly before glancing up at the two Rebel guards that flanked the doorway to the Infirmary. No doubt there would be several others outside. "Must they insist of standing there like idiots?" he muttered, gesturing to the young men, "I find their presence extremely off-putting."  
  
His son looked down at him, brow pulled together in a look of - what? Apology? Sympathy? The Sith Lord couldn't be certain. "I'm sorry father, but you'd better get used to it. Mothma was very specific about it - you are to be under constant supervision. If there was another way---"  
  
"You did what you could, given the circumstances," Vader interrupted, waving the boy's concerns away with an idle movement of his hand. "I did not expect a ready welcome."  
  
Luke, however, still seemed uncomfortable, despite his father's assurances. His mind was troubled - Lord Vader could sense it. He reached out with the Force, seeking to gently probe his son's thoughts. He was a little surprised to feel his son's presence pull forcefully away from him, constructing mental barriers between them.  
  
The Sith frowned behind his mask. "What is it?"  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
"Do not lie to me, son. Your mind blockade, while admirable, will not offer much of an obstacle to me." His voice was suddenly lowered to a soft, almost threatening, growl. "Do not make me force you to reveal the truth. Now tell me - what is wrong?"  
  
Luke stared fixedly into space, drinking in the ominous words. He knew him well enough to know that he spoke the truth - he would have no qualms in pulling Luke's thoughts apart until he located the cause of his anxiety. Nevertheless, he was more than a little reluctant to discuss the issues with his father. It would be --- difficult to explain.  
  
"Tell me, Luke. I will not ask again."  
  
The Jedi slowly turned to face the pitiless black mask. A sad smile played on the corners of his mouth. "Do not speak to me as though I were a child, father," he murmured quietly, "I have proven myself to be beyond that."  
  
Darth Vader said nothing for a long moment. Hollow intakes of air filled the silence between them, the harsh rasp of the respirator sounding like an artificial heartbeat. When he finally spoke, it was more gentle --- more understanding. Almost proud. "Yes ---- you did, didn't you? Not a child anymore. A Jedi." He paused. "It may take a while for me to adjust to this change. Give me time."  
  
Time. The one thing in the world that they didn't have, Luke thought wistfully to himself. In the cold light of morning, this fact was just starting to become apparent. Mon Mothma's words echoed through his skull, reminding him that this was no ordinary family reunion. His father was a war criminal --- and a war criminal in Rebel hands.  
  
----"I will make no compromises. He will be executed. Believe me; I would lose no sleep over ordering his death warrant, Commander. And do not think of this as a permanent arrangement. When he has regained sufficient health, he will be tried as a war criminal."-----  
  
There was no doubt in the young Jedi's mind that Mothma meant what she said. There was no love lost between Darth Vader and the Rebel leader. His father would have to be told, it was inevitable. But it didn't make the experience any less daunting.  
  
"I was just thinking about something that Mothma told me last night --- during my meeting with the other Commanders." He hesitated, slightly uncomfortable under Vader's intense scrutiny. He could almost feel the masked eyes boring into his head. All of a sudden, he didn't feel much like a Jedi. He felt like a farm-boy who was in over his head. "They want to try you as a war criminal. They're going to arrest you as soon as you've recovered. I'm sorry."  
  
There was a long silence between the two men. Even the medi-droid seemed to have fallen into an unnatural quiet.  
  
The Sith Lord stirred. "Do not be sorry for what is beyond your control."  
  
Luke sighed and shook his head. "This is my fault," he muttered quietly. "I should have known better than to bring you here."  
  
"And if you had not, I would be dead." Darth Vader stared down at his son, breathing clinically regular, helmet betraying nothing of his inner emotions. "I do not fear the Rebels, son, nor do I fear a trail. They are unwise in thinking that they hold the upper hand here - believe me, you need not concern yourself on my part." The Dark Lord paused grimly. "There are far more dangerous things in this universe."  
  
The younger Skywalker paused, then looked up to the other man. The Force was trying to tell him something. He studied his father closely for a moment, reaching out to feel his emotions for any clue of what was going on in his unfathomable mind. He sensed trepidation - an unusual feeling to be emitting from the most feared man in the Galaxy. His eyebrows drew together in a ghost of a frown.  
  
"---Father?"  
  
Vader seemed to pull himself forcibly from his thoughts. He gave a shallow grunt and glanced at Luke, hands gripping tightly. He said nothing.  
  
"Father? What is it?"  
  
Darth Vader took in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. For a brief moment he considered confiding in Luke about what he had sensed the previous night - that cold, deathly presence that had invaded his dream. He had tried to convince himself that it was merely a dream, but a nagging fear at the back of his head told him not to dismiss the nightmare so readily. It had all been so --- so *real*. The terror, the hopelessness, the utter dejection. He knew that it could have only been the Force calling to him. But to what end?  
  
He looked down at the expression of concern etched deeply in his son's face. No, he decided, he would not burden the boy with this just yet. Not until he could be sure. They faced so many challenges as it was - why add a phantom in a dream to the growing list of problems?  
  
Vader shook his head and looked away.  
  
"Leave."  
  
Luke blinked and straightened. "Leave?" he sounded surprised, and a little hurt, by the detached coldness of the order.  
  
"I presume that you have not eaten recently, and I highly doubt that you got much rest from your sleep last night. Go. Leave. You are of no use to me if you exhaust yourself, son."  
  
The Jedi scowled. "I'm not leaving you."  
  
Vader fought to suppress a sigh of irritation. Typical Skywalker - as stubborn as an Albiniaak sand-mule. It was a trait he remembered sharing in his youth. "I do not require a babysitter, Luke."  
  
"Nevertheless, I'm not going anywhere."  
  
The Sith Lord paused, fighting a growling sense of annoyance. He knew what happened when he got annoyed - it generally involved someone choking. He sensed that would not be a wise course of action at this point in time. However, he was a man of many resources. He knew his sons weaknesses ---- and exactly how to exploit them.  
  
"And what of Leia? Do you not wish to speak with her?"  
  
His ruse did the trick. He saw Luke hesitate. "Leia?"  
  
"Yes --- your sister."  
  
Luke's frown deepened. "What of her?"  
  
Vader remained still and motionless, an ebony black statue in an infirmary of pristine white. "I am weak, son, but I am not a fool. I know that she would rather that I had died on the Death Star, and I know that it is causing a rift between you. I can sense her fear --- her anger --- her frustration." He stared at his son with fathomless masked eyes. "It is she needs you now --- not I. Go. Explain to her."  
  
The young Jedi watched him carefully for a long moment, blue eyes dark and thoughtful. "And --- and you'll still be here --- when I return?"  
  
He sighed wearily. "Where else would I go?"  
  
The words seemed to comfort his son. He gave a slow nod and rose to his feet, one hand rubbing at his forehead. "I'll be back soon, father."  
  
Darth Vader said nothing.  
  
Luke paused for a moment, almost half-expecting an answer, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Han had been doing a lot of thinking.  
  
He couldn't help it, his mind kept running around in the same well-worn circles - relentless, incessant, and beyond his control. Leia knew something that she didn't trust him enough to talk to him about. Leia didn't trust him. She didn't trust him. *She* didn't trust *him*.  
  
Not that he blamed her particularly. Were the situation reversed, he probably wouldn't have trusted himself either. But they had become so close recently, he had thought --- well, he had presumed that she loved him enough to see past his failings and have confidence in him. Now he could see that he had been fooling himself - first by not telling him about Luke, and now by not telling him about Vader.  
  
And it hurt. He couldn't deny that it hurt. He felt like he was being shut out again, that Luke and Leia were closing ranks to keep him in the dark. For the past few years, they had been a team - Han, Chewie, Leia, Luke, the droids ---- they had worked together, as friends. But now, ever since Luke arrived back on Endor, it was like the two siblings had formed their own private club ---- and Han Solo didn't have membership.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He wished that he hadn't been so short with Leia earlier. Thinking back to the previous night, it was amazing how much could change in a couple of hours. They had been so happy --- so blissfully happy. What they had devoted their whole lives to fighting for had come to pass - the Empire was defeated, the final battle was won. All the pain, all the sacrifices, suddenly paid off in a blaze of fireworks. He had gone to sleep that night for the first time in his life not dreading what the new day would bring. It was as though a weight he hadn't even been aware that he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. In all honesty, he could not think of a time when he had been happier.  
  
And in the space of a few hours, the dream had been shattered. And he knew exactly why.  
  
Darth Vader.  
  
His mere presence was like a poison seeping through the Rebel base. Han was no Force sensitive, but he could feel the darkness tainting the very air. What could the kid have been thinking, saving that monster and bringing him to Endor? No matter how much Han thought about it, he couldn't decipher any logic to the action. When Leia had told him about Luke going to confront Vader, he had known in his gut that one of the men would end up dead. Even back then Leia had been hiding something. He could see it in her eyes --- in the tremor in her voice. There was something definitely going on. At first he had assumed it was her feelings for Luke, but now ----  
  
---- Now, he didn't know what to think.  
  
"I'm telling you --- I was there when Commander Skywalker brought him in. It was I who alerted the Alliance Leaders to his being there."  
  
Han paused and frowned, glancing behind him. He had been walking absently down the corridors, lost to his thoughts, when the sound of voices stirred him from his musings. Two men had just come out of one of the doors onto the hall and were walking in his direction. Their heads were bent close together, speaking in hushed whispers in an obvious attempt not to be heard. They did not seem to have noticed his interest in their conversation. Perhaps they, misguidedly, believed that he could not hear them. Curiosity alighted, he continued on his way down the corridor, his ears now keyed in to the low murmurs.  
  
The younger of the pair - a man in a medic's uniform with pale amber eyes - frowned. "I thought that it was Princess Leia who reported Skywalker?"  
  
"No, I was already there when she arrived."  
  
"Really? What did she say?"  
  
Han noted with a discrete glance over his shoulder that the addressed wore the garb of a Field Sergeant. The Sergeant shrugged. "Not much really. She seemed to be in shock more than anything else."  
  
The medic gave a low whistle. "No wonder - wasn't Vader one of the Imperials who destroyed Alderaan?"  
  
The Sergeant gave a knowing nod.  
  
"---Sith---"  
  
"I know. Fancy having your best friend save the man who destroyed your home planet."  
  
The amber-eyed medic tilted his head questioningly. "Are they good friends then, the Princess and Commander Skywalker?'  
  
"Oh yes, they're always hanging out together. Very intimate by all accounts."  
  
An arched eyebrow. "Really? I thought that she was with Solo?"  
  
The Sergeant gave a low snort and shook his head. "Can't see that one lasting, can you?"  
  
Han felt his cheeks flush crimson as he listened to the conversation. He was in half a mind to turn around and give the gossiping rebel's a few choice words. Something stopped him, however. Later he would call it curiosity - right now he didn't know what it was.  
  
"Don't be so sure, De' Lahara. Princess Leia might not be so soft for the Commander when she finds out the truth about why he saved Darth Vader."  
  
The Sergeant paused, studying his friend closely. "Do you know something that you're not telling me, Sisman?"  
  
"Perhaps. But in the interests of Doctor/Patient confidentiality, I can't say any more."  
  
"Bantha fodder! Come on, don't you trust me?"  
  
Sisman seemed to hesitate for a moment. "This can't go any further than between you and me. Its more than my jobs worth if this gets out."  
  
Han slowed down a fraction, listening intently. This was what Leia had been afraid to tell him -----  
  
The medic paused and took a deep breath. "Luke Skywalker," he whispered, "Is Darth Vader's son." 


	8. Chapter 8

Authors note: It's another short chapter I'm afraid. Sorry, but I've got a lot of work to get done. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more later, though.  
  
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The room was empty. The Force only knew what the Imperials had used it for - a storage space perhaps, or perhaps some kind of waiting room. Whatever service it had served prior to the Rebel takeover, Luke Skywalker found it to be a welcome relief from the noisy confusion beyond the closed doors. Here he took a minute alone to close his eyes and meditate, forcing his mind into calm.  
  
The task was more difficult than he was used to.  
  
So many minds...so many emotions...all crowded together in chaotic disarray. The young Jedi breathed deeper, disconnecting himself from the swell of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. He retreated further within himself, searching past the superficial disorder for the blissful state of awareness he had found through his training...  
  
He frowned suddenly, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion. What the...?  
  
The automatic doors opened with a hiss of steam, sharp footsteps entering hurriedly behind him. The figure was barely a step into the room before he launched into a verbal attack.  
  
"You've got some nerve kid!"  
  
Luke allowed his eyes to slide open slowly. Not turning around, he stared out of the window, tired smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Hello Han," he greeted evenly.  
  
The man behind him scowled darkly. "Don't you 'hello Han' me," he growled. "You knew, did you? You knew and you didn't tell me! How could you bring that...that...that *thing* back here?!"  
  
Luke lowered his head thoughtfully until his chin rested against his chest. "If you know what I suspect you do, then you are also aware of the answer to that question."  
  
"Ah don't give me any of that wise Jedi Master bantha fodder!" Han curled his hands into fists, jaw clenched tight. "Just tell me if it's true!"  
  
"If what's true?"  
  
"Damnit Luke! I need to know!"  
  
The younger man sighed and shook his head. "I guess good news travels fast. I had hoped it would stay secret longer. Guess I didn't take into account how quickly gossip moves around a base, huh?"  
  
Han growled and strode towards him, grabbing Luke roughly by the shoulders and whirling him around to face him. The movement was swift and forceful, his fingers gripping so tight that his knuckles turned white.  
  
"Tell me!!" he yelled, bringing his face to within an inch of Luke's own. "Is he your father?!"  
  
If Luke felt any shock or discomfort at his friend's action, he didn't show it. He looked up at Han's enraged expression with a look of neutrality. Slowly, he gave a single nod.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The single whispered word had a powerful affect on the ex-smuggler. His eyes grew wide, mouth opening in a look of shock before being promptly shut again. The hands that grasped so fiercely at the other man's shirt suddenly slackened, releasing him from his hold. His whole body seemed to sag as though compelled by a heavy weight.  
  
"But...but...how?" He blinked, confused. "It's not possible."  
  
Luke took a deep breath, watching Han intently. "Darth Vader is my father," he repeated, validating the truth of his previous admission. "That is why I brought him back to Endor after the Death Star exploded. I had to save him because I am his son."  
  
Han stared at him, eyes betraying the grief he felt inside. His face was suddenly lined with a look of desolation. "Then Leia..."  
  
"...Is his daughter?" Luke nodded and looked away. "Yes. Yes, she is."  
  
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C-3PO was having a bad day.  
  
Firstly that confounded officer on the third level had refused to tell him anything of Master Skywalker, even after being told - rather insistently, several times - of his position of trust with the Rebel Commander. Then after that he had been jostled and pushed all the way down a flight of stairs as an inconsiderate crowd had rushed past him. And now...now after all of that, he had R2 coming up to him with all sorts of ridiculous stories while he was trying to repair a communications consol for Chewbacca.  
  
"Honestly R2, really! Can't you see how busy I am?"  
  
The little droid wobbled from side to side and whistled persistently.  
  
"Now you know better than to trust an Imperial computer. It probably took one look at you and decided to play you for the simple droid that you are. Hand me those wires."  
  
R2-D2 gave an indignant beep, causing his companion to look up sharply.  
  
"Where did you learn language like that?"  
  
Another flurry of beeps and whistles.  
  
"Well that's what you get for hanging out with the likes of those ruffians, I suppose. I warn you, R2; I will not hear you spread such malicious gossip about Master Luke. He's been very good to us and don't you forget it. He could have turned you in for spare parts years ago, had he not been so benevolent."  
  
R2-D2 made a low clicking sound and proceeded to retract a claw-like arm to pick up the wires for 3PO.  
  
The gold armored protocol droid gave a world-weary sigh. "Honestly. Darth Vader in the medi-bay. I find it hard to believe how gullible you can be at times, R2."  
  
R2 remained silent, but dutifully handed the wires to his friend.  
  
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"Are you alright?"  
  
Han glanced up at Luke's softly spoken words. They were sitting side-by- side leaning against the wall, legs drawn up and elbows resting on knees. Warm sunlight shone in through the tall windows, casting a bright patch of gold on the cool grey floor. Everything was quiet.  
  
"Yeah, I guess. Its just kind of a shock, you know?"  
  
The young Jedi gave him a rueful smile. "You don't know the half of it...believe me."  
  
Han stared down at his hands. Rough brown fingers tapped together listlessly, drumming out an illegible beat into the silence. Han had never liked being still. He always needed to be out there...to be doing something...to be suddenly confronted by this stillness was slightly daunting.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned quietly.  
  
Luke paused, considering the question. "You didn't need to know," he reasoned after a moment's silence.  
  
Han glanced over to him, eyebrows raised challengingly. "Did Leia need to know? Is that why you told her and not me?"  
  
"Yes, Leia did need to know."  
  
The ex-smuggler stared at him darkly for a moment, then turned away. One hand rose to knead at his forehead, smoothing out the lines of worry that had begun to form on his skin. "What the heck am I going to say to Leia?" he murmured despairingly.  
  
Luke watched him closely. "What makes you think that you have to say anything?"  
  
Han gave a hard laugh. "Well, it's not a subject you can just skirt over, is it? Her father's friggin' Darth Vader!"  
  
"And does that matter?"  
  
"No...well, yes...well..." the older man's face contorted in a look of confusion. "...Oh, I don't know!"  
  
Luke's eyes fixed on him with a sudden intensity. "Search your feelings, Han," he whispered, "You know how you feel about Leia."  
  
"Of course I know how I feel! I love her!"  
  
"And have those emotions changed, now that you know the truth about her father?" he pressed insistently.  
  
Han hesitated. Thick eyebrows drew together in a look of deep though, mouth pulled down. Slowly, uncertainly, she shook his head. "I...I don't know."  
  
Luke blinked, surprised by the admission. "Han..."  
  
Han stood hurriedly, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He looked down to his friend, gaze strangely weary.  
  
"I need some time to think about this Luke...you understand, right?"  
  
The young Jedi was silent, but gave a short nod. He watched impassively as the ex-smuggler turned and walked towards the doors, footsteps loud against the smooth stone floor. The doors opened and closed with a hiss, and Han was gone, leaving Luke to stare at the space where he had last stood.  
  
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The medi-bay was uncharacteristically quiet.  
  
It was one of four that served the ex-Imperial base and, despite the influx of wounded that the doctors had been treating since the takeover the previous day, it remained strangely empty. The whole section had, in fact, been cautioned off - Mon Mothma deciding late the night before that she did not wish for the single patient that occupied the room to come into contact with more Rebel's than was necessarily.  
  
Though whether this policy was to protect Darth Vader or to protect the Rebel's was anyone's guess.  
  
Despite his attempts to stay awake, the wounded Sith had quickly slipped into unconsciousness as soon as his son had left him alone. The sedatives they had given him while they were repairing his injuries were extremely potent, and the aftereffects of his exposure to Force lightening had drained him in both body and mind. That given, he was asleep for often than not that day.  
  
The only other figures in the room at that moment were the medi-droid and a young medical worker who was busy cleaning the surgical tools. As soon as his task was completed, he wiped his hands free from cleaning fluid on a towel and turned to the stationary droid.  
  
"We've run out of swabs, G5. Go down to the storage rooms of level six and see if you can find some more, will you?"  
  
The medi-droid gave a compliant beep before obediently leaving the infirmary.  
  
The medical worker watched the doors shut fast behind it, one hand drumming idly on the metallic work-top. A heavy silence fell upon the room - the only sound being the steady gasp of the patient's respirator. The medic waited for a moment further, than moved towards the door. He flicked a small switch on the side, effectively locking the only entrance into the infirmary.  
  
Then, with deliberate stealth, he moved closer to the figure on the bed, reaching into his uniform and pulling out a blaster as he walked...  
  
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	9. Chapter 9

Authors note: Boy, has it been a long time since I updated! Still, better late than never I guess. The events in this chapter will be explained in more detail within upcoming chapters...I just wanted to keep the action as uncluttered as possible within this chappie.  
  
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After his encounter with Han, Luke had remained in the empty storage room, staring impassively out of the tall windows and out onto the forest beyond. His hands were clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in a look of deep thought. At first he had tried to meditate, but stilling his mind had proved impossible. There were too many distractions...too many fears and anxieties...he could not find the focus that he required.  
  
Han's angry reaction had not been unexpected. Indeed, if anything, Luke was surprised that his friend had managed to stay as in control as he had. But there was a subtle undercurrent of emotion in the ex-pirate that had troubled Luke...a quiet resentment that neither had been willing to confront. Deep down, Han had blamed him, and that hurt Luke like nothing he had before experienced.  
  
Ever since he had left Tatooine, Luke had found strength in his friendships. Chewy, Lando, the Droids...they had all found a special place within his heart, but it had been with Han and Leia that Luke had found his greatest solidarity. Their trio had stuck together through thick and thin, despite - or perhaps because of - their superficial differences...but now, following his escape from the Death Star, Luke could sense a growing rift in their friendship. Leia and Han were distancing themselves from him, leaving Luke emotionally torn in a way that he had never before experienced. On the one hand he had his friends, and on the other, his father.  
  
...His father...  
  
Luke frowned, a sudden shift in the Force gaining his attention. At first he could not quite place it. It was faint - nothing more a ripple in the darkness - but its presence grew swiftly within his consciousness.  
  
What was that...?  
  
...Then, suddenly, a vision intruded forcefully into his mind. So clear that it was more like a memory than a prediction, he could see an armed medic advancing towards his helpless father...his blaster drawn...  
  
Luke's eyes snapped open. The intensity of the vision had left him shaking, beads of cold sweat bejewelling his forehead like new-cut diamonds.  
  
"No!" he called out, both with his voice and his thoughts, "NO!! Father!!"  
  
Turning at once, he rushed from the room.  
  
**************************  
  
"...No...NO...!"  
  
Vader's sleep-drugged brain failed to register his son's voice at first. He was floating in content oblivion, a dark numbness enveloping his consciousness. Peace of a kind that he rarely experienced had over taken him, and, truth be told, he was loath to part from it.  
  
"...No...NO...!! Father!!"  
  
Luke's voice again, more insistent now.  
  
A small part of Vader's thoughts stirred, a hint of anxiety now blighting the horizon. The threat, however, was still vague and obscure. Inwardly, he frowned. The Force was trying to tell him something, that much was clear...but what...?  
  
A sudden presence infringed on his senses. Instantly his perception was locked into awareness, the blanket of slumber falling swiftly from his Force-sensitive mind. He sensed the medic loom over his prone body, the quiet click of a blaster almost deafening against the silence...  
  
...Behind his black mask, Vader's ruined eyes snaped open, breath rasping through his respirator. The medic gave a start of surprised, shocked to his patient awake. He had obviously assumed that Darth Vader would remain sedated. That thought enraged the Sith-lord beyond reason, and he felt the familiar tendrils of the Dark Side tugging in the back of his mind. He didn't fight the sensation...he couldn't have even if he wanted too.  
  
His gloved hand flew upward, reaching out with the Force to ensnare his attacker. The medic recoiled as though he had been physically struck, his head snapping back with a violence that sent him sprawling to the ground. He gave a sharp yelp of pain and fear, a sound that Vader found satisfyingly familiar.  
  
As the medic scrambled to regain his footing, Vader heaved himself onto his elbows. His body ached in protest, but the feeling was easy to ignore. After days of feeling weak and helpless, this sudden thrill of power was inflaming to his senses. Once more he was Lord of the Sith...the Dark Side was his to manipulate...and this creature who dared to challenge him would not live to regret his actions.  
  
Swinging his legs over the side of the medi-bed, the black-armoured figure extended both his hands, the Force now a physical presence within the empty infirmary. With one sweeping gesture of his arm he threw the would-be assassin to the ceiling and held him up there, caught like a butterfly on a pin. The medic gave a low moan of terror, the blaster dropping harmlessly to the floor below. Vader kicked it aside.  
  
"Did you really think," he growled quietly, "That a mere blaster would be enough to defeat me?"  
  
He increased the air pressure around the medic, causing the trapped man's face to flush a bruised scarlet. His mouth gaped wide as he gasped vainly for breath.  
  
"How naive of you."  
  
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Luke raced down the corridors, ignoring the hails of passing Rebels. He could feel the imitate danger growing like a shadow around him...but the source of his fear remained oddly obscured. Inwardly he sought out his father's presence, but found the Sith's mind closed to him.  
  
...What if Luke was too late? What if Darth Vader was already dead? A bleak terror rose in his throat, the fear of losing his father as tangible as it had been in the Emperor's throne room. And yet there was something else too. A vague darkness was seeping into the Force around him, like a poison diffusing in water. It was faint, but most certainly present...a black threat looming on the edge of his consciousness.  
  
The Dark Side.  
  
Luke's skin crawled at even this distant sensation. He had thought the Dark Side dead along with the Emperor, but apparently this was not the case. Could a Sith be responsible for the attack? The mere possability was terrifying beyond description, but he did not have time to ponder at it. He had to save Vader...that was his only priority.  
  
Spurred on by the thought of his father, Luke tore down the corridor, intent on reaching the Infirmary before it was too late.  
  
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Darth Vader released his grip. The medic crashed to the ground, landing with a sickening crack of breaking bones. The cry of pain that ensued left Vader's ruined eyes gleaming with malicious glee.  
  
Stalking silently across the floor, Vader stooped and picked up the discarded blaster. He turned it over several times in his gloved hands, making a deliberate show of examining it. The weapon was of Wookie craft - a particularly deadly firearm that had been outlawed under the Empire. Had the medic actually succeeded in his mission, Vader's body would have been instantly disintegrated.  
  
With silent disgust, he tossed the blaster aside. It was a crude and ugly weapon...he had no use for it. Death using the Force was an art unto itself, and the Sith-Lord could not sully himself to execute in any other fashion.  
  
The medic - who had been so full of cool bravo when facing an unconscious Vader - now had tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
"You deserved to die you monster," he hissed, face contorted with a mixture of hate and panic. "You killed my brother!"  
  
The black helmet stared pitilessly down at him, no emotion registering behind the polished jet eye-pieces. "Perhaps so," he agreed coolly. "Nevertheless, your pathetic attempt to avenge him would appear to have backfired somewhat."  
  
The medic gave a choked sob. "I hope you burn for what you did!!"  
  
Vader said nothing. Then, with theatrical slowness, he moved to loom over the young man, his cape drifting languidly around his feet like the wings of a demon. His focus was now wholly taken by the Force, the power of the Dark Side intoxicating beyond comprehension. Again, his hand extended, preparing his powers with intent to kill...  
  
At that moment the infirmary doors hissed open and a medi-droid lumbered clumsily into the room, a large case of surgical swabs clutched in its metal hands.  
  
"Were you aware that the door was locked, sir? I had to ask a passing technician to help me - oh." G5 paused, noticing Vader for the first time. "Is the patient feeling better?"  
  
The Sith gave a hoarse cry of rage, frustrated at being interrupted at such a crucial moment. The droid was flung against the opposite wall with such force that it exploded on impact. Blue sparks of electricity flamed briefly and then were lost, a heap of smouldering metal all that remained of the medi-droid.  
  
Distracted, Vader turned to survey the damage he had caused. He took in the devastation with a critical eye, then gave a grunt of satisfaction and returned his attention towards the medic...only to be confronted with a blaster pointing towards his heart. The medic had evidently used the moment's reprise to retrieve his weapon.  
  
The younger man bared his teeth in a triumphant grin. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time..."  
  
A sudden flash of red light hit him squarely on the forearm. He gave a scream of pain and dropped the blaster, eyes glancing upward to stare in horror at the figure in the doorway. Even Darth Vader whirled around in shock. His mind had been so consumed with the thought of killing the man, that he had failed to notice the new presence that was now standing behind him...  
  
Han Solo stood in the open entrance to the infirmary, blaster still smoking in his hand. His jaw was clenched firm with grim resignation.  
  
The medic shook his head hopelessly. "Captain Solo, I -"  
  
Han cut him off with a wave of his blaster. "Shut up and move away from your weapon."  
  
"But he killed my brother!"  
  
Han's expression remained unchanged. "I won't tell you twice," he told him quietly, eyes darting mistrustfully to where Darth Vader stood. "Now, move away from your weapon."  
  
Tears streamed down the medic's cheeks, his lithe frame shaking with impotent frustration. He looked first to Han, then to Vader, watching in desperation as his carefully laid plans fell apart before him. For a long moment he remained motionless...then he dashed forwards with a defiant shriek, lunging towards his fallen blaster.  
  
"NO!!"  
  
One blast was all it took. Han's aim was as true as ever, the blast impacting against the medic's heart with deadly accuracy. The medic's body jerked like a puppet on a string, his eyes wide...then he slumped forward into unconsciousness, his hand only inches away from his weapon.  
  
The stillness that followed was absolute, only Vader's rhythmic breathing serving to break the silence.  
  
The Sith Lord stared impassively down at the crumpled body. "Is he dead?"  
  
Han let out a breath he hadn't even realised that he'd been holding. "No. But he's gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."  
  
Vader gave a quiet grunt of indifference and turned away.  
  
The doors hissed open once again and Luke burst into the room. He held his lightsabre out in front of him, ready to ignite it at a moments notice. His expression was one of experienced neutrality, but Vader could sense the panicked anxiety that lay hidden underneath his cool exterior. For a moment he was stunned to feel such strength of emotion resonating from his son, and - somewhere, in whatever part of his cold heart remained human - Vader was touched.  
  
The young Jedi glanced between the three men, confusion lining his tanned brow. His gaze finally settled on the medic's broken body. "What happened here?" he whispered, aghast. "...What's going on?"  
  
Han said nothing, but moved to tuck his blaster back into its holster. He didn't even lift his eyes to look at Luke.  
  
Sensing that no explanation would be forthcoming from Han Solo, Vader took a step closer towards the open doorway, one gloved hand gesturing towards his now unconscious advisory. "This man attempted to assassinate me while I was sleeping. Were it not for the intervention of your friend, I would most likely be dead by now."  
  
Han gave a quiet growl. "Trust me, that's not such a bad option."  
  
If Luke had heard the mumbled words, however, he chose not to comment on it. Instead he stared at his old friend with a mixture of surprise and dawning gratitude. "Han...you saved my father's life." There was a momentary pause as he shook his head solemnly. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough."  
  
"Save your breath, Luke," Han muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the Jedi's words of gratitude. "I didn't do it for you, okay? I did it for Leia." The former-smuggler waved a hand vaguely towards the unconsious medic. "And just for the record, those bruises and broken bones? It sure as hell wasn't me that caused them." He snarled silently and shook his head. "Still, I guess old habits die hard for a Sith, huh?"  
  
Luke frowned in confusion, expecting Han to explain further but receiving nothing but a cold silence. The two men stared at each other over the room. The distance might have only been a few meters, but at that moment the space between them might as well have been a whole galaxy. Once again, Luke could sense his friend drawing further and further away from him...  
  
Han cleared his throat and broke eye-contact. Scuffing his boots absently, he looked down at the unconscious man with and expression of utter disgust - though whether the expression was aimed at the medic himself or what Vader had done to him was anybody's guess. Then, without saying another word, Han turned swiftly on his heel and strode out of the Infirmary, leaving Luke alone with his father.  
  
A long moment of still quiet passed between the two men that remained. The atmosphere was still heavy with the almost tangible presence of the Dark Side, an invisible shroud that refused to dissipate. As the realisation of what had occurred began to slowly dawn, Luke found himself staring at the black-armoured figure with growing horror. He had sensed the Dark Side even as he raced to his father's aid...but he never expected to find that it was Vader himself who had been weilding it. Darth Vader...his *father*...had tried to kill a man. After all that had happened between them, the Sith Lord had used the Dark Side once more for evil.  
  
The realisation made Luke sick to his stomach.  
  
The young Jedi's expression hardened to one of fearful expectancy. "Is it true?" he demanded quietly, surprised to hear the waver in his own voice. "Did you try to kill that man?"  
  
Luke mentally willed Darth Vader to refute Han's allegations. He would have taken Vader's word in a heartbeat if he had denied it, but somehow, deep down, he knew that he would not. All the hopes that he had held towards his father died in that instant. Leia had been right all along...in spite of all that had happened between them, his father was the same monster that he had always been.  
  
Standing only a few paces away, Darth Vader gave a weary sigh. Even this simple sound conveyed much to his son's scrutiny - it told of tiredness, of anger, of frustration...  
  
...But there was no regret in his father's voice.  
  
The black-caped figure turned slowly to look at Luke. The expressionless helmet bore no trace of human emotion. Vader knew the grief that his actions would inevitably cause Luke, and felt a brief pang of pain...but these sentiments were quickly suppressed. He had long ago become used to inflicting anguish on others.  
  
"He should not have angered me, son," he said simply.  
  
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End file.
